


Commandike

by Fight_The_Heteronormatives



Series: How Parent-Happy Clones saved the Galaxy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic (Comics), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption as a Competitive Sport, Anakin is SO Happy to Have a Sibling, Clones, Cody Becomes a Parent, Everyone Gets Padawans Basically, Fluff, I'm so tired, Issue 53: Blast Radius, M/M, Multi, Obi-Wan Takes a Padawan, Padawans, Some angst, The Research I did here guys, Tropes, no order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fight_The_Heteronormatives/pseuds/Fight_The_Heteronormatives
Summary: Mando'a, lit. "Little Commanders".At the beginning of the Clone Wars, the Jedi Council began fearing they would lose one of their best - Anakin Skywalker. In their fear of him quitting the Order, they issued him a padawan. It was a desperate move, and one they weren't exactly proud of, but it worked. Not only did Ahsoka Tano wind up a competent leader and devoted Jedi, but her master also grew closer to the Order and the other jedi around him as a result.As the war has dragged on, many masters have either died or been forced to compromise their principles. No longer satisfied with current events, even the most loyal among them have questioned their actions and faith.In short: well, if it works once......Or: everyone gets a padawan, everything is dramatic, and the jedi half-forgot how absolutelyMandaloriantheir clones are and left their children in adoption-range. Expect shenanigans, misadventures, and Palpatine's unfortunate, humiliating demise. What a shame.Partially inspired by the Soft Wars series by Project0506.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Therapy, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clone Troopers/Appreciation
Series: How Parent-Happy Clones saved the Galaxy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052921
Comments: 104
Kudos: 731





	1. Why Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Prayer for Strength in Adversity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407009) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a Translations (first how it’s used in context, then the literal translation):**
> 
> _Jetii_ -cadet: Jedi Cadet, an Initiate/Padawan.

“I’m sorry, Sir, could you repeat that?”

General Kenobi smiled, crow’s feet crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

“The Padawan Trials. Would you like to come with me?”

“May I ask why, Sir?” he asked. The "padawan trials" sounded very _jedi,_ quite possibly _sacred,_ and not something that necessitated a clone trooper's presence. 

“It’s completely up to you; this is far from a requirement,” he smiled disarmingly, and while it was a very attractive smile, he’d seen it aimed at too many senators and politicians to fall for it. “I would simply like the company, and there are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Well. He certainly knew how to get someone curious.

If it was anyone but Kenobi asking, he’d probably say no, fake work that needed doing (though with how much work there was for a Marshall Commander, it wasn’t truly _fake._ Force knew he could find something someone wanted to pass up the chain). If it was one of his brothers, he’d laugh at them. He knew a trap when he heard one, and he hadn’t been successfully pranked since he was six. He would’ve given them props for being brave enough to try, though.

But it was Kenobi. And he trusted him.

Force help him, though. This was probably going to end in explosions.

Kenobi’s smile widened, and his posture relaxed slightly. Cody felt an unnerving itch at the back of his brain that made him think Kenobi knew what he thought, despite all his claims to the contrary.

“Certainly, Sir,” he agreed.

“Thank you. Would you meet me at the shipyard at oh-four-hundred tomorrow morning?”

“Of course.”

Kenobi nodded, moving past him, and continuing on to the small command room they’d set up. It was a tent, just beyond That One Boulder That Looked Like A Butt, next to the river they were using for the still-being-constructed fresher station. The combat on this planet had been over for three days now, and everyone was starting to relax.

It was still early in the afternoon, though the red tint of the sun made it feel later. There were a few people scurrying back and forth, but not too many; not enough that there was risk of bumping into one another.

He shook himself off, and forced himself to keep walking. He’d have to do something about the paperwork he had, and pass the inspections off to someone else. No big deal. He hoped Waxer wouldn’t kill him for this.

He stopped at the central hub, finding Rex speaking to Fives and Echo. After spotting him approaching, Rex dismissed them both, and speed-walked over to him.

“Should I ask?”

“You can. But, by virtue of being the first one to bug me, _you_ get to handle the next few days' inspections.”

“Afraid not,” Rex replied affably, “Skywalker invited me to some Jedi thing. Speaking of, you’ve got that “Kenobi did something and now I can’t rub two braincells together” look.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks. I wouldn’t want to make your general jealous. Now spill. What’s this about?”

Breath in. Breathe out. Strangling your brothers is against protocol.

“Hell if I know. They’re being all _jedi_ about it.”

“Surprise, surprise,” he sighed. “Alright. See you tomorrow, then.”

He made the smart (if cowardly) decision to bolt before Cody could pass on any of his responsibilities. Especially as he now not only had to catch up on his paperwork, but try to get ahead.

He marched for the caf machine, shinies scattering out of his way, and took a moment to curse The Universe in General.

…

Cody was already sitting on an empty fuel barrel outside the shipyard – which was basically just a small patch of land where there were few enough trees to settle fighters, gunships, and some of the bigger supply ships – at oh-three-thirty. A report from one of his lieutenants sat open in his lap, his helmet was clipped to his belt, and he was aggressively trying not to stress over upcoming events.

He hadn’t gotten much sleep. He’d stayed up an hour-and-a-half past curfew, clipping his hair back into a standard crew cut and shaving off the last few days of scruff with a meticulous hand. He followed this up by polishing his armour to a dull shine. He’d visited the five-oh-first’s local vandalist – sorry, _unofficial starship decorator_ – for a sprayblaster of the same orange-yellow paint every member of his battalion wore. The lid of a shipping crate gained some new colour while he used it to get perfectly straight lines on the white plating, and while he’d wavered on whether to cover up the scoring and discolouration, he’d eventually decided to. The age of the plastoid composite would show through the paint, as would the dents. And he wanted to look up-to-form in front of whoever Kenobi wanted him to meet.

That was something else that kept him up. Who would he meet during the padawan trials that couldn’t be introduced elsewhere?

The most logical answer was easy to come to: Kenobi wanted a padawan.

Cody see-sawed back and forth on whether or not to approve. They did dangerous work, fought in awful battles, and they couldn’t have a liability on board with them. If the _jetii-cadet_ messed up, it would cost lives.

And if they died, Kenobi would be _crushed._

However, having another jedi around could be beneficial. Force knew that any extra help would be welcome, and even if they weren’t a good fighter, per se, they could still be good for morale. Commander Tano had taken Skywalker’s battalion all the way up from Severely Lacking to Below Average! That was no small jump.

And Cody struggled to find a downside to having more jedi in the war on principle; especially more that took after Kenobi.

“Commander.”

It took years of training not to jump, but they paid off. The general had snuck up on him, probably intentionally, because while he pretended to be all polite and civilized, he secretly thrived on creating drama.

“General,” he greeted back, calm as anything. “You’re here early. Couldn’t sleep either?”

Kenobi’s smile dipped a bit. “Somewhat. Have you been having trouble?”

“None more than usual,” he replied. He shouldn’t have brought that up. Now he’d be _worried,_ and he’d get all _gently concerned and understanding,_ while Cody blundered through an explanation that boiled down to “up to combat-efficiency standards”. And t _hat_ would only upset Kenobi more.

He couldn’t see him too well. Spotlights were only kept on around where everyone slept and worked, for the sake of power conservation, and this planet only had one moon – a small one, farther away than average.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Kenobi answered, “Shall we get going?”

Grateful for the easy out, and adding a note to his datapad to remind him of sudden, inexplicable appointments with a medic, Cody followed his general into the yard.

They passed by most of the ships without pause. In the dark, they loomed high over them, thickening the darkness even more. They were nothing but black shapes, utterly undefined save for the way they blotted out the stars in clean, sharp lines.

He hated it. There were so many places where you could be snuck up on. It was impossible to tell if you were being watched or not. And he would’ve walked into several ships had he not been following Kenobi’s sure footsteps.

He began getting nervous as they neared the end of the yard. They’d passed by all the good ships, the ones Cody would’ve booked. He’d seen most of these land – how many were left?

An arm shot out to keep Cody from walking into what was now obviously a rather large ship, tucked into a back corner like a guilty pile of laundry you should’ve done two weeks ago.

He sent a quizzical look Kenobi’s way, knowing he didn’t actually need to speak, or even be seen, to get the question across. With a disgruntled sigh, Obi-Wan banged his fist on the ship’s hull solidly. The hollow, metallic sound echoed loudly in his ears, though again, he managed not to jump. Just.

A thin rectangle of light flicked on from the inside of the ship, a few feet to their left, and with a drawn-out hiss and a painful metal groan, the door opened, and the ramp descended.

He blinked at the sudden brightness, and got a good luck at the ship. He groaned.

“Sir,” he pleaded, “Please tell me this isn’t _the Twilight.”_

Kenobi sounded as put-upon as he was. “Anakin assures me it’s hyperspace-worthy.”

“And you believed him?”

Kenobi didn’t grace him with an answer, instead turning to march back to the beginning of the ramp and climb aboard. Cody followed, but reluctantly.

It took his eyes a second to adjust to the lighting, but the view wasn’t really worth it. To Cody’s left was the cockpit, which looked as if it had been Frankensteined together from five other cockpits. Neither of the front seats were the same size, and the benches clinging to the wall between the front seats and the entrance were all covered in different types of grease-stained leather.

To his right, a small kitchen and workstation were shoved into each-other’s spaces, and while an attempt seemed to have been made to tidy up, it hadn’t been much of one. Tools lay scattered on the metal desk, dirt had gathered in the corners, and the faint smell of oil, rust, and sweat hung in the air.

From the front, R2-D2 beeped at them cheerfully.

“Should I write him up for this?” he asked. "This _cannot_ be up to code."

“I would pay you to,” Kenobi responded, and-

Oh. Now that Cody could see him properly, he actually looked…good.

Not that he didn’t always look good. He did. He was the only man Cody had ever met who could make three layers of filth and a ripped tunic look like something you’d see on the front page of a tabloid. But tonight he had gone the extra mile – beard clipped, hair washed and combed neatly to one side, with his boots polished a gleaming red and a brown cloaked hanging off his shoulders.

The only criticism he could possibly give was that he’d forgone his armor. Cody quite preferred it when there was something more than cloth between his general and someone else’s homicidal tendencies.

Kenobi looked at him, smile widening. “Much better. And good to see you, too.”

Refusing to be (outwardly) flustered, he smiled back as calmly as possible and made a beeline for the newest, cleanest-looking seat, stepping over R2 as he whizzed to the workstation and plugged himself back in to charge. A not-so-subtle string of binary was aimed in their direction; the words indiscernible, but the tone full of complaints. Kenobi brushed passed him and claimed the co-pilot’s seat.

They didn’t have to wait long for the others. Just after his datapad chimed four-thirty, an annoyed _bang!_ Sounded on the hull. With even louder complaining, R2 unplugged and hurried to open the door.

Moments later, heralded by a wave of cool, fresh air from the outside, Skywalker stumbled in. He had clearly just tumbled out of bed, with bruising rings around his eyes and annoyance written over his features. His robe, a black-brown colour, had only half been pulled on, and he stumbled to the cockpit with only a polite nod in Cody’s direction.

“Anakin,” Kenobi greeted, “Thank you for joining us. Is this the kind of state your ship is always in?”

“Good morning to you, too, Master. You know, I didn’t _have_ to provide us with a ship for this. I could’ve put you through the hassle and paperwork of booking one of the GAR’s yourself. Would it kill you to show a little appreciation?”

Kenobi rolled his eyes at him.

“Alright, alright. Point made. In all seriousness, you _are_ sure this thing will fly, yes?”

“How’d’ya think it got on the planet to begin with? A pulley system?”

Kenobi’s surely scathing retort was interrupted by Commander Tano climbing aboard with a huff, just as tired as her master, and with Rex following closely behind.

“Sir. General Kenobi.” Rex greeted quickly, before looking around and grabbing the next best seat – right across from Cody himself – before Tano could think that far ahead.

She scowled at him, her own chocolate brown robe still just a tad too big for her body. It made her look smaller than she was, especially given she was quickly closing in on Kenobi’s height.

“Preparing to depart,” Skywalker announced, “Buckle up. And you’re late, by the way.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re flying all the way out for this,” she grumbled, taking a seat next to Rex, putting him between her and her master. “You already have a padawan. A pretty good one, too, if I do say so myself.”

General Skywalker turned long enough to give her a grin. “Oh, I don’t know. I hear the latest graduates are _exceptionally_ talented. Maybe they’ll give me a refund?”

“Not. Funny.” She hissed, scowl worsening. General Skywalker turned back to his console and took a deep breath, before reaching back and knocking her gently on the shoulder. She loosened up slightly, but only slightly.

Cody shared a look with Rex. This was going to be a long flight.


	2. Babies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a Translations (first how it’s used in context, then the literal translation):**
> 
> _Buir:_ Father, lit. “Parent”.  
>  _Kama:_ The skirt-like extensions of the belt worn by ARC troopers.

While sharing cramped quarters with grouchy jedi wasn’t Cody’s idea of a good time, the planet they landed on made it worthwhile. It was mid-morning, by Cody’s guess, and the sky was a bright blue. The star it orbited must’ve been a yellow one, because the colours and shadows were all comfortingly familiar.

Around the patch of open land they’d set down on, massive trees reached their branches as close to the sky as they could get, their bark a dark, desaturated purple. The leaves were all in shades of blue, purple, and pink, and the dead ones carpeting the ground had turned grey and fuzzy. He stepped on one, out of curiosity, and instead of being sticky or airy, his foot sunk comfortably into it. When he pulled it back out, the leaves remained where they were, and the distinct impression of the sole of his boot quickly vanished as it resumed its shape.

Somewhere above them, he could hear creatures of some kind making light, whistling calls to one another, and the branches shook with their movements, rusting down a fresh shower of leaves.

“Pretty place,” Rex said, stepping out of _the Twilight_ last. “Where are we?”

“Moi’chah,” Kenobi answered, leaning back and looking up at the creatures in the trees. “It’s too far out of the way to be of strategic value, and while it’s perfectly habitable, no-one knows it’s here, so no-one’s taken it over. Yet.”

“Save for the jedi?” Cody asked.

“Naturally,” he replied, shooting Cody one of those spotlight-bright grins. “This area, for a radius of a few square kilometers, has been quartered off for centuries. The Order uses it as a meditative retreat, or for events like this one. The rest of the planet, while habitable, is filled with a wide range of creatures that would very much like to eat us. Otherwise, it’s a moderate, fertile world.”

Cody met Rex's eyes from under his helmet. That was…well. Useful, was a word for it. He quietly filed that away, tucking it into a neatly-kept, label-less box in the back of his mind. Food for thought.

It was, fortunately, a nice hike to Base Camp. While it still took about forty-five minutes, it was over soft, level ground, in moderate temperatures, and without the pressure of being in a campaign. His DC-15A blaster rifle had been hooked to his back, and it was lighter than the full kit he’d been forced to train in on Kamino, so he enjoyed the walk.

Soon enough, they opened up to a clearing. Along their left side, a large cliff loomed over them, throwing half the open space into a dark, grey-purple shadow. Around it, tents had been erected; some were small, and clearly just for sleeping, while others were larger and open on all sides, probably for meetings, food, and communications arrays.

It was… _jedi_ was probably the best word for it. None of the strict organization of a GAR set-up. The tents lay scattered around the area, with those that served similar purposes huddled together in clumps. These clumps were connected by nothing more than sightline and astromech tracks.

Speaking of astromechs, units of all colours, shapes, and series sped around between the tents, erecting more of them or transporting supply crates. A few jedi mingled about, chatting to one another, and helping with the set up.

To Cody’s surprise, he saw a few clone commanders around too. Some he recognized, some he didn’t; but all were a welcome sight.

Kenobi marched forward determinedly, gesturing for them to follow. By habit, Cody mapped their path. Forward between the first two tents, right at what looked liked a communications array under a canopy, and forward past a small cluster of sleeping tents.

They stopped as they reached the middle of the clearing where one massive tent, with a closed off back, stood tall. In front of it was about a dozen baby jedi, lined up semi-neatly and leaning around each-other to talk and laugh.

They came with the usual degree of diversity Cody had come to expect from jedi; all different sizes and races. The only constant was that they were all painfully young, and very, very cute. They all wore smaller versions of the brown jedi robes, and slightly less personalized versions of tunics with shiny, knee-high boots. Lightsabers hung heavy on their belts, and seemed a little too big to fit comfortably in their hands. 

He recognized half of them as the younglings who’d been attacked by Hondo Ohnaka’s pirate crew, not long ago. He more vividly remembered losing a perfectly good ship to Grievous that tenday, along with many good men; but they weren’t unfamiliar.

“They’re young,” Cody commented, “Younger than Tano was.”

“They’re twelve on average,” Kenobi answered, brow creasing. “I’d hoped there would be a few older ones.”

“Don’t count them out just yet,” Tano cut in, “I know these kids. They’re competent and talented.”

“I never argued to the contrary,” he answered, “I’m simply worried about the effect the war will have on such young jedi.”

Tano pursed her lips, but said nothing. There was little one _could_ say to that.

Rex was approached by ARC Captain Keeli, and Tano headed off to speak to the initiates. Skywalker decided to pretend to be sociable, and inserted himself into a conversation being held a bit away between General Secura and Commander Bly.

Cody was pleased to see he wasn’t the only one to clean up a bit, as the yellow paint on Bly’s armor was clear and bright. His _kama_ had been polished, and his DC-17 blasters were clipped to his side, as was his helmet, so Cody followed suit.

The air smelt fresh, and the breeze was cool. You always forgot how stale recycled air was until you were no longer breathing it in.

To his right, He saw General Windu standing next to Commander Ponds, who gave him a polite nod when he looked over. His purple paint was a little scratched up, and now that he looked properly, General Windu was ever-so-slightly more ruffled than he normally allowed himself to appear off a battlefield. They must’ve arrived in a hurry.

Not too far away from them was General Billaba, an olive-skinned human woman with dark braids in her hair. She was General Windu’s former padawan, if memory served, and her Commander – Grey – stood at her side in blood red armor.

General Di stood nearby, conversing with General Koon and Commander Wolffe. He looked well, after his close call near the beginning of the war. It was good to have him up and about; more jedi couldn’t possibly be a bad thing.

There were a few others he didn’t know. A commander in yellow-green paint stood by a burly lasat jedi, who he’d later learn was General Jaro Tapal. Also present were a few unattached jedi with no commanders, or even units to speak of.

One such jedi, who Cody had never met before, was speaking to General Yoda near the edge of the group that had started accumulating around the younglings. A human, with scruffy black hair and heavily scarred, darkly tanned skin. He surveyed everything with slanted, crystal clear grey eyes, but didn’t seem too harsh or unkind.

As he turned to survey the newer jedi to arrive – including throwing a nod of acknowledgement Kenobi’s way – General Yoda suddenly brought his cane down on the ground next to his feet. It made a loud _THWACK!_ and the formerly serious jedi yelped and jumped.

General Yoda’s cackle could be heard by the younglings, who peered around carefully. The strange jedi growled at him in return.

“Cody?” Kenobi asked, and he turned his attention back to him.

“Sir?”

“Would you like a copy of the initiates’ files? So that you can review them, and I can hear who you’d think would mesh well with the men?”

He nodded. “I would, Sir. Thank you.”

His datapad beeped almost immediately, indicating a new message. He hesitated on opening it, however.

“Sir?” he asked, “What is the purpose of these trials?”

Kenobi smiled at him, and Cody had to force himself to focus. “These are trials they undergo to determine if they’re well-trained enough to be considered jedi, and for masters to see their skills and pick those they’d like to teach. Between you and I, though, it’s mostly a formality. Those here have likely already been chosen by someone.”

Cody nodded. “And have you?”

Kenobi’s smile stayed in place, but it felt a touch more forced. “I haven’t decided yet. Several are promising, but I have my concerns. Most of which center around the war.”

 _You and I both,_ he thinks. He quickly opened the files Kenobi sent him.

There were twelve exactly; two clans, the Hawkbat Clan and Krayt Clan. From what Cody could tell, they were the same as squads; giving them the socializing needed to remain healthy and feel secure, without surrounding them with so many others they feel lost in the crowd. It also aided in teaching compromise and teamwork. The only difference between these clans and clone squads was that the clans were made up of six people, while squads were made up of five - discounting the Sergeant. 

He had only just open the first file – Byph, a young Ithorian – when a conch shell blew from somewhere out of sight.

“Ah,” Kenobi said, “Just in time. The proceedings are about to begin.”

…

“Thank you,” General Yoda said, speaking to the many assembled masters and troopers. “Come from far, many of you have, and dangerous, your voyages were…”

The assembled masters wore serious expressions, and while many of them held datapads, none typed or read while Yoda spoke.

“Small, this group of initiates is, but talent-”

Yoda paused. Like a ripple in a pond, a shudder moved through the group of masters. The younglings stood up straight, looking around like startled Correllian meerkats. Instinctively, Cody reached over his shoulder for his blaster.

Kenobi’s hand shot out, catching his wrist in a tight grip. He turned to Cody, face carefully blank, and shook his head.

A movement from the edge of the clearing caught his eye. A tall figure made their way forward, slipping out from between the trees as quiet as a shadow. A heavy black robe covered their face and body, to the point where he couldn’t tell gender, or even species. The small amount of face that was visible under the heavy hood was thrown into shadows so deep, it seemed like no-one was underneath it – it was simply a cloak hovering towards them.

The masters nearest to where they approached from backed off quickly, keeping themselves between the stranger and their troopers. He was not the only one who had reached for a weapon.

They paused as they stepped into the ring around the younglings. They turned to study the initiates, and as they passed their eyes over each youngling, they tensed and forced down a shudder. A few, like Byph, seemed to be actively pushing down the urge to run.

Once they’d made it to the end of the line, spending a good deal of time on the second-to-last youngling – a small zabrak boy – they turned back to the center and bowed to General Yoda, who bowed back.

“Welcome, you are,” he said, “Glad you could join us, we are. Now, speak for their students, the teachers will. Master Sinubé; begin, will you?”

As if nothing were amiss, an ancient cosian Jedi stepped forward, leaning all his weight over a wooden cane. He had mottled brown-green skin that hung off his bony frame like loose rags, and thin white hair bound to the sides of his head. He had a hound-like face, with a long, drooped nose and alert, golden eyes. His robe had been draped over him like a blanket.

Cody turned back to Kenobi for clarification on what to do. He looked at the figure for a moment, before consciously releasing Cody’s wrist and turning back to the front, impassive as anything.

For lack anything else to do, he followed suit, releasing his grip on his blaster and stepping back into a rest position. The other troopers did the same. No-one lost track of the stranger.

“Oh, yes,” Master Sinubé said, voice croaky and slow. He finally made it to the middle, and turned to address the group. “Oh, I don’t mind at all. I don’t get out much these days, you know. Now, these young initiates…”

The tense atmosphere quickly faded into boredom as Sinubé spoke. He drawled in a constant monotone for a good half-hour, and spent maybe two minutes of that actively discussing the students. He got side-tracked at absolutely nothing, and long outstayed his audience’s interest. The previously stunned younglings began stifling yawns and rocking back and forth on their feet to keep their blood pumping.

Cody had been trained to stand at parade rest for hours, but even he was getting antsy. The stranger was giving off what Crys would call _truly rancid vibes,_ and he didn’t like himself – and especially Kenobi – standing so close to them.

Finally, Yoda coughed pointedly, and gave Sinubé an apologetic look.

“Ah,” he said, “That reminds me! There was a time on Cato Nemoidia where…”

Cody’s heart sunk. Skywalker sighed quietly next to them, and his padawan elbowed him in the side.

Finally, Master Sinubé was escorted out of the center, and a young human jedi took his place. He was taller than average, with golden-tanned skin and a powerful build. Blonde hair hung loosely to his shoulders, and he had a strong, rectangular face.

“Master Strahl,” Yoda introduced, “The younglings’ science teacher, he is. Much to say, have you, hm?”

Strahl laughed, a deep, smooth sound. “I believe I couldn’t possibly follow up the compliments Master Sinubé showered them with. All I shall say is that these younglings possess inquisitive minds one only finds once in a generation. Would you like to go next, Master Nu?”

He had some kind of accent; something faintly Outer Rim. Much like Kenobi, if you weren’t forcing yourself to pay attention to their words, you’d get lost listening to the sound of their voice.

Behind him, the younglings finally relaxed, sensing a quick end to the formalities.

Master Nu was an elderly human woman, who reported quite simply that the students would make fine padawans, knights, and masters. She would miss having them as assistants to help her categorize the holos at the Temple, though he couldn’t imagine they would miss it nearly as much.

She was followed by their acrobatics teacher, Master Ri’in, then their meditation instructor, Master Kruul, and Master Nema, who taught healing and first-aid.

“Lastly,” Yoda said, eyes shining, “My part, I must offer. Learned well, these younglings did, and applied their knowledge, they have. Stood here long enough, everyone has. Dismissed.”

The younglings almost dropped where they stood. The jedi either turned to head in the direction of the food tent or found a seat and went back to their datapads. General Ti approached the younglings, alongside ARC Commander Colt, who trained clone cadets on Kamino. He seemed particularly interested in their own training, and he struck up quite the conversation with a few of the initiates, who offered demonstrations.

“Come on,” Kenobi said, “It’s getting late, and you’re probably starving. Let’s head inside.”

“Sir,” he asked, “Who was that earlier? The late-comer?”

Kenobi’s smile went thin. “That…was one of the wandering masters. They’re somewhat legendary around the Temple. They take off, following the whims of the Force, and only return every couple of decades to remind the council that they aren’t dead; or to drop off Force-sensitive children who slip through the Republic’s cracks. That master in particular has a…past, shall we say.”

He paused, waiting for more, but no information was forthcoming. He let the matter drop for now, too tired to press, and they went to find the food tent.

…

Dinner was a warm affair. The tent was big, and open on all sides. It was filled with long, low tables bracketed on either side by plush cushions. These tables had placemats and lanterns to keep the area lit as the sky around them slowly went dark. Three normal tables – one along the right ‘wall’, one against the back ‘wall’, and one along the left ‘wall’ – held food and drink.

Cody had attended senatorial gatherings, and knew the jedi ate humbly by comparison; but it was still amazing by clone standards. Bantha steaks and some kind of pink rice were the main feature, with enough fruit and vegetables to make meals solely of that. Some kind of fish had been diced and rolled with rice into seaweed, making neat little pink squares several jedi would simply pick up and pop into their mouths as they went by. Two different types of gravy – one filled with meaty chunks, one synthetic – was available. Caf, tea, blue milk, and fruit juices were set up at the end of the third table.

After asking, Kenobi told him he could take as much as he liked. He hurried to get through the queue and sit down, knowing that as soon as Wolffe and Rex heard, the food was as good as gone. Anyone who had siblings knew that if you were not quick and devastatingly ruthless when claiming your share, you’d lose it.

“Tomorrow, things will be more interesting,” Kenobi promised, reading his datapad while not eating nearly as much of what was on his plate as he should.

“I look forward to it,” Cody said, unsubtly pushing his plate closer to him.

Kenobi gave him a look, eyes twinkling, but set the ‘pad down and focused on eating a little more.

Around them were a few more of the generals and commanders. Windu and Billaba, with their respective troopers Ponds and Grey, along with General Yoda.

On the other side of Kenobi was the roughed-up jedi General Yoda had startled earlier, looking sourly down at his plate - which only held some sliced-up jogun fruit. Cody got the sense he was like Wolffe; intimidating to outsiders, but only because he was ever-so-slightly socially inept. And perhaps not a fan of being the best target for pranks.

It was only after the younglings were escorted to bed that the conversation turned to them, and finally became interesting.

“Will you be taking a padawan, Jon?” Windu asked the man, “I had thought you were devoted to wandering the edge of wild space, and never teaching so long as you had say in the matter.”

“I’m here because coming here was the will of the Force,” he answered, giving Windu a look. He, in contrast to kenobi, kept his robe wrapped tightly around himself. “I still have no real desire to teach.”

“Oh?” General Yoda asked, seemingly amused. “Thoughts on the initiates, have you, then? Not interesting, any of them are?”

_“No.”_

Jon, Cody thought, was getting defensive. He hadn’t fidgeted or shifted his weight, clearly too well-trained for such obvious tells of discomfort; but he’d tensed. Cody felt himself wanting to reach for his blaster; he hated being unarmed while watching someone potentially dangerous get needled. Especially when that person was sitting closest to Cody’s general.

They slipped back into an awkward silence, but the generals didn’t eat. They simply sat patiently, Billaba looking particularly amused, and waited for Jon to crack.

It took a moment, but after looking them all in the eye, he sighed.

“Katooni is a talented student, I’ll grant. Petro, too. I’d like to say Caleb would make a good padawan, but I value my life too much.”

This was punctuated by sharp look towards an utterly unrepentant Billaba, who went back to eating.

“Scout, however,” he continued, “I doubt. Her connection to the Force is tenuous at best; she should be assigned to the Agricorps before she hurts someone, gets hurt, or both.”

Windu huffed, but didn’t disagree aloud, instead joining his former padawan and finishing up his meal.

General Yoda was inscrutable, but Cody got a bad feeling from him. He forced himself to keep still. Kenobi, too, seemed perturbed. It wouldn’t have registered to many others, but Cody had learned to tell when someone had upset him. The way he held his shoulders, the slight deepening in the lines next to his eyes. Jon was quickly sinking on Cody’s list of People To Be Tolerated.

“Say that, why do you?” Yoda asked. “Struggled, she has. But a late bloomer, she could be.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “Midichlorians don’t lie, Master Yoda. I’m afraid she simply isn’t up to jedi standards.”

Cody’s heart nearly stopped.

He forced the reaction down, and made himself breathe. Ponds and Grey both stiffened as well.

 _Jedi don’t do things the way Kaminoans do,_ he reminded himself firmly. _They wouldn’t decommission her. That’s just not something they’re capable of._

Kenobi sent him a concerned look, but didn't call him out. Cody was grateful.

Yoda barked a humourless laugh. _“Midichlorians._ Not numbers and genes, the Force is. Mysterious, and malleable, it is. A poor attempt at understanding the incomprehensible, midichlorians are. Know _better,_ a master like you should.”

“Oh, here we go,” Kenobi muttered under his breath, sagging in his seat.

“Even you cannot deny what a strange coincidence it is, then,” Jon replied stiffly, one scar on his lip twitching with his scowl. “That so many beings have midichlorian counts that just _happen_ to coincide with their strength in the Force? It might not explain everything to do _with_ the Force, and perhaps nothing ever will, but it’s a definite step forward on that front. And _far_ too accurate to simply be dismissed”

“And condemn a potential jedi on that front, you will? Hmm?”

At this, Jon was smart enough to pause and give his reply thought. “Why do you have such faith in her, Master? Do you know something we do not?”

“Hardly, hardly. But a fair chance, she deserves, hmm? A fair chance, everyone deserves.”

“…Perhaps.” He acquiesced. He still wasn’t content with this, though, and it was obvious.

A moment passed in silence, Kenobi watching the two of them like he was waiting to mitigate a fight.

Yoda knocked his gimmer stick on the floor, pulling the table’s attention back to him.

“A bet, we will make, hmm?” he offered innocently.

Jon immediately became suspicious, and a few of the tables behind them quieted down.

“A bet?” Jon asked.

“Yes,” Yoda replied, eyes twinkling. “A bet. If pass every trial, Scout does, then take her as _your_ padawan, you must.”

The tent went dead silent. No-one was even trying to hide their eavesdropping anymore.

Jon was staring at Yoda open-mouthed.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“Yes.”

Jon considered this carefully, looking to Kenobi for his reaction. Finding nothing helpful, he considered General Yoda carefully.

“And what do I get if you’re wrong?”

“Hmm…”

Yoda considered this, long ears twitching as he thought.

“If fail, she does; then break my gimmer stick, you may.”

_“Done!”_

“Jon,” Kenobi interrupted, exasperated. “I don’t think-”

“Agreed,” Jon interrupted. “It’ll be for the good of jedi everywhere, the destruction of that thing.”

“You’re being overdramatic!” Kenobi complained.

“You,” Jon said, turning a sudden grin on Kenobi, _“Clearly_ don’t remember what it was like to fall asleep in meditation, only to have that thing _crack_ right next to your ear. I’ve lost years off my life to that bloody twig.”

Billaba and Windu both watched with a mix of elation and concern; more of the former to Billaba, and the latter to Windu. Yoda cackled.

“Oh, I do, believe me,” Kenobi said, “But if you’re wrong, that means taking on and knighting a padawan; hopefully. You’ll truly enter into that so cavalierly?”

Jon pursed his lips, sobering somewhat. He considered, glancing between Yoda and Kenobi. 

“…Yes,” he decided, “I will.”

Kenobi gave him a look, but backed off. He disapproved, Cody could tell, and he agreed. They were being very… _casual,_ with the future of their students. This was a possible future Kenobi, Windu, _Yoda;_ and they were deciding something as important as her padawanship on a bet.

Beyond that, Jon seemed confidant. Too confidant. He didn’t think she’d manage it.

After that, he hoped she did. Just to give these _brats_ a reality check.

Kenobi shot him a look out the corner of his eyes – he must’ve caught the tail-end of that thought, or simply caught his feelings on the matter. He smiled at him; a real smile, not the tense, plastic one he gave politicians, or the exasperatedly fond one reserved for Skywalker or Tano. Cody’s heart did something weird; a cross between a backflip and folding in half.

Did he need a medic? He might, honestly. This man was going to kill him.

“Well,” Billaba said, “Now tomorrow truly _will_ be interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A note:** Scout is a real character, though her appearance will be changed. I do somewhat like her canon design, but Star Wars, quite frankly, has enough white people. The story is canon too, with Scout gaining a master after a jedi, Jai Maruk, bet she wouldn't be able to win a thirty-two padawan strong dueling tournament. To his shock, she did win. He kept his word to Master Yoda, and took her on. 
> 
> However, I wanted to write about Jon Antilles, a "wandering master". He was considered somewhat legendary by his fellow jedi, not the least because he infiltrated the Bounty Hunter's Guild and brought known murderers to justice. No-one knows his real name - Jon Antilles is what he's going by right now. He's been thought to be dead many times over. Beyond how interesting he is, there were already enough new characters in this fic; we didn't need more. 
> 
> Wandering masters are canon too; jedi who follow the Force explicitly, and only show up right as someone's about to mark them as deceased, because by God, they have to be by now, right? Jon Antilles was trained by a particularly famous one. 
> 
> **Additionally:** Feemor Strahl is Qui-Gon Jinn's first padawan. Jinn cut him out of his life completely after his second padawan fell to the Dark Side. Here, he's based off of Chris Hemsworth. Anyone who read my much older Star Wars story will recognize him. 
> 
> No worries if you're not familiar with Legends material. Everything will be explained as the story goes along. I hope you enjoy it!


	3. *Downs Stim-Laced Alcoholic Caf* So What's New With You Guys?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a Translations (first how it’s used in context, then the literal translation):**
> 
> _Buir:_ Father, lit. “Parent”.  
>  _Ad:_ Child, lit. “Child”. (I did not think this format through…)  
>  _Akk:_ An akk dog is a vicious, wolfish creature native to Korun. They’re extremely aggressive, and used as guard dogs.

That night, after they’d been shown to the tent he and Rex would be sharing, the two sat on their cots and waited.

They stripped off the tops of their armour, leaving the black body glove underneath; it left him feeling exposed, but also let him move a bit easier. Plastoid composite was heavy, and while it was a reassuring weight, and one he’d been trained to carry, it still felt freeing to be rid of it for a while.

After that, they both checked their weapons in silence. It wasn’t something they really discussed; both because they didn’t need to, and for plausible deniability should something go wrong. But if they weren’t on the front, or buried in other work, then clones – from all ranks and battalions – would meet up for what they called ‘inter-squad-reconnaissance’.

It was a nice way of saying they snuck out past curfew to gossip, play sabbac, and drink the moonshine someone will have had the forethought to smuggle along. It wasn’t as fun as it used to be, at least for him. He _set_ the curfew now. That sort of took the adrenaline out of the activity.

With this many jedi around, he wasn’t about to pretend that no-one knew they were up and about. But no-one stopped them, and he doubted anyone would. Was this an incredibly sacred and important event? Yes. Were the older jedi, council members included, probably doing the same thing elsewhere? _Absolutely._

They found their brothers between the storage tent and food tent, taking up a spot in the middle of the newly-made alleyway. The more solemn commanders – Wolffe, Grey, Colt, and the one he hadn’t met yet, in yellow-green paint – were behind the others, sitting on supply crates and sipping moonshine. They spoke in low, hushed voices.

Bly, Keeli, Monkk, and Ponds were sitting on the ground in a circle. Someone’s bucket – Bly’s, it looked like – had been turned upside-down, and was being used as a pot. Around it, several little jars of brightly coloured paint were set up. A lantern sat on a crate just behind them, glowing yellow between the two groups of commanders. They all had sabbac cards clasped close in their hands, and were eyeing each-other with all the seriousness of a life-or-death situation.

Cody nodded to them as he walked by, deciding to join the drinkers in the back while Rex took a seat on the ground.

“Deal me in,” he said. Bly grinned and handed him five cards, face down, and a small pile of rocks they’d collected off the ground. Rex quickly found the blue paint – not five-oh-first blue, but no-one else’s armour was close enough in colour for it to matter – and began dabbing spots of colour on the rocks.

Cody glanced into the pot. Several of the rocks were a sunny yellow colour, more still pink. A few were plain; that must’ve been Keeli. No point in painting the rocks brown. Only a couple were Ponds’s purple.

For the first few minutes, it was quiet. Nice. The fact that they were all commanders, and that they were here for a strict purpose, meant that a certain degree of maturity was maintained. This would’ve vanished in the barracks on Coruscant, or at Seventy-Nine’s; but fortunately, no-one had to worry about fights breaking out. Cody learnt that Wolffe was getting leave soon, and was planning on spending it on Coruscant, making Fox’s life painful. Fox himself was apparently dealing with some jedi trouble, as he’d become an unofficial Commander for Jedi Shadows who worked on and off Coruscant. If they needed a unit for one reason or another, Fox had been assigned to provide it.

Poor guy. Cody had heard from Kenobi about shadows; jedi who worked undercover to hunt darksiders and demolish crime rings. They were notorious for toeing the line when it came to the Force, and he didn’t envy Fox’s new responsibilities. Kenobi was a handful, sure, but Cody had a working relationship with him. He _knew_ Kenobi, and trusted him. And while things could devolve into mayhem pretty quickly, it was now a _predictable_ kind of mayhem.

Fox would be trading out different breeds of crazy every tenday on Coruscant, likely till the war ended.

He’d also learnt that Tapal’s Commander was named Jinx. He’d been among the other batches of commanders, and while Cody hadn’t recognized the armour, he was surprised to find he recognized the face. He had a small burn scar on his lower lip, something vaguely familiar to Cody. He’d bumped into a cadet with a scar like that a few times on Kamino; they’d simply never stopped to talk.

“Sabbac!” Keeli declared. The other four players groaned and threw down their cards, complaining as they did so.

Keeli immediately started plucking rocks out of Bly’s bucket. The first had a dab of purple paint on it.

“Ponds?”

Ponds sighed. “Alright."

He shuffled a bit, getting comfortable, and not-so-subtly glanced around for eavesdroppers. "General Windu isn’t here because he’s looking for a padawan. He has no desire to take one on. He’s here because he wants to keep an eye on General Billaba.”

Ponds turned to Grey, followed by the rest of them. He sipped his thermos of moonshine, not looking at any of them.

“It’s true,” he confirmed with a sigh. “He’s worrying for nothing, though. She’s been doing well since she got out of her coma, and she’s more than ready to adopt an _ad,_ if that’s what she wants. And even if something does happen, Wave Company has already made extensive provisions for a cadet. Everything will be fine.”

“Don’t say that,” Jinx said, “It’ll only be bad luck.”

“You’re a superstitious bastard,” Grey told him, “And everything _will_ be fine. We’ve made sure of it.”

This was why Cody had come here tonight. It wasn’t strictly because of his brothers, though it was nice to see the ones he knew again. Bly, Ponds, and Wolffe were batchmates of his, and he was lucky to still have them. However, this was what he’d been hoping for: a game of gossip thinly disguised as gambling.

The brothers had no credits, and rations were given out to everyone as needed. So, they bet with the only thing they did have: gossip.

And such a game between so many commanders could lead to some interesting developments. It paid to be on top of things in an army, and one could never have too much information. Even if a good deal of it might be overblown or ultimately useless.

Keeli pulled a blue rock from the pile.

“Kriff,” Rex swore. “Fine. On our last deployment, someone _actually_ tried to ask General Skywalker how much it would cost for a night with Commander Tano. This was while they were browsing the local marketplace. It didn’t end well.”

Ponds hissed through his teeth. While very few knew of Skywalker’s past (and that wasn’t a piece of information that Rex would bet on), most did know that the generals were incredibly protective of their young, despite the preaching they did on attachment. While his reaction certainly would’ve been more extreme than, say, General Unduli’s, no jedi would have taken that well.

“I can’t confirm,” Rex continued, “I wasn’t there. But he came back with his flesh hand all bloodied, and the commander was giving him that _concerned_ look Kenobi loves to give him.”

“Good,” Bly said. Grey nodded in agreement, and if Rex himself was concerned with the slightly intense violence Skywalker showed, he didn’t let on. He might not make the best jedi, by his council’s definition, but Skywalker would make a great Mandalorian. He’d done exactly what any traditional _buir_ would have done.

Keeli pulled out a pink rock; this one not painted, but actually smudged with a dab of pink rice.

Monkk leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Alright. I heard from General Fisto – who I’ll admit was a tad drunk when he said this – that his record was, in fact, not particularly _clean._ Apparently, he and one General Secura both received reprimands for being ‘attached’ to one another. Details are beyond me, but this is from him himself.”

A round of low laughs went around the group, from all except Bly, who soured.

“What’s the matter, Bly?” Rex asked, _“Feeling blue?”_

The laughter got worse, and even Wolffe hid a snort behind his thermos. The last of the tension in the group dissipated.

Bly’s crush was one of the GAR’s worst-kept secrets, and that was no easily earned title. The only thing that kept him from constant, intense ridicule was the fact that it was a trend. A worrying number of troopers had become what the jedi would call ‘attached’. It could’ve just been close quarters and high stress, or that their jedi tended to treat them like actual people. Alternatively, it could’ve just been the jedi themselves; the word ‘impressive’ didn’t cover it.

Then again, it could be for a more sinister reason.

The kaminoans had designed, bred, and grown the troops with the knowledge that they’d be led by jedi. They’d all undergone simulations based on leaders who would be capable of carving through opponents with swords made of light, of removing obstacles with a flick of the hand. It made sense, from their perspective at least, to condition their troopers to respond well to jedi. They could well have been programmed to bond with their jedi, to facilitate better working relationships and reassure loyalty to the Republic through the generals. Just about nothing was beyond the kaminoans.

Whatever the reason, it was a reality they now had to deal with. It wasn’t always romantic, though it did tend that way. Wolffe likely thought of Koon as a _buir,_ rather than a lover, and Rex’s loyalty to Skywalker was more brotherly than anything else. They were the lucky ones. As for the unlucky…

Exhibit A: Bly, who was blushing furiously and glaring daggers at Rex.

Exhibit B: Keeli, who did his best impression of a pissed-off _akk_ whenever someone even looked at General Di in a way he didn’t like.

Exhibit C: Cody, who looked at an airlock like it held all the answers to his problems whenever Kenobi thoughtlessly flirted with him. Which was _often._

_Crack!_

Everyone froze. In the immediate silence, Cody thought he could hear a light shuffle from around the supply tent. He quietly raised his blaster, and saw the others do the same.

Monkk was the closest. He leaned forward, rolling to a kneeling position, and plucked his helmet off the ground. Using the ‘T’ of his visor as a mirror, he held it out and caught a glance of whatever was hidden behind the tent.

He relaxed, and held up a fist in a ‘hold’ gesture.

“It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice soft and calm, “It’s alright. You can come out, if you want.”

There was silence for a moment. Cody and the others reluctantly lowered their blasters, sharing loaded glances.

_Smack!_

The small Ithorian jedi, Byph, was shoved from his hiding place. With a yelp of fright, he stumbled to his knees in front of them, then shot back up. His large, inhuman eyes darted from one clone to another quickly, before he raised a hand in a shy, embarrassed wave.

Cody relaxed, and set his blaster back down. No threat; just curious younglings.

“Hi,” Monkk greeted, grinning widely. He fell back down into a seated position. “We’re just talking. You can come join us, if you like.”

Cody glanced around. The pot had been kicked behind Bly, and cards had been tucked behind backs. Wolffe was quietly shuffling so that he was sitting on the crate with the booze in it.

Byph looked back out of sight, and asked a question in the gargling language of his. A hushed sentence followed, one Cody didn’t quite catch.

A mop of dark hair and blue-green eyes poked out from behind the tent. It was one of the human boys, and he stepped out cautiously.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Caleb. I don’t know if you caught it, but this is Byph-” here he gestured to his friend, “-we just wanted to say…Hi?”

Cody hid his smile behind his thermos. A few of his brothers tried to hide their laughter and failed. Clearly this wasn’t coming out the way he’d meant for it to.

Monkk took pity on him. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, “I’m Monkk. This is Captain Rex-” Rex saluted casually with his mug, “-and that’s Captain Keeli. The rest of us here are commanders.”

“You met me earlier,” Colt said, piping up from next to Cody, “This is Commander Cody, Commander Wolffe, Commander Ponds, and Commander Bly.”

Caleb shot a quick glance back to his friends, then stepped forward, followed slowly by Byph. As he sat down, the other younglings – all twelve of them, if Cody counted right – crept out after them.

One of the other humans, Petro, introduced himself and sat next to Caleb, followed by Cal, who’s mop of ginger hair set him apart from the others. A small tholothian girl – the same species as Generals Allie and Gallia – sat near Cody, and introduced herself as Katooni. A bright rhodian, Ganodi, sat next to her, followed by Zatt, a nautolan like General Fisto.

A human and twi’lek, Tai and Sammo, claimed the seats next to Caleb, putting them right by Bly. Gungi, a little wookie (and _oh,_ was he _cute_ ), sat cross-legged with the others, turning down Bly’s offered seat. The last two were the small zabrak boy who’d been singled out by the wandering jedi from before, Tyzen, and a half human, half twi’lek child.

Her skin was splotched with different colours; some a human brown, just a shade lighter than General Windu’s skin, and some yellow, only slightly more orange than Bly’s armour. What hair she had poking out from between her short lekku was pulled into several long, tightly wound braids.

He did some quick math in his head, and figured who she was by process of elimination.

“I guess that makes you Scout,” Cody asked her.

She blinked at him, surprised. Her eyes were a fiery orange colour. “Yes. How did you know?”

“…Your file,” he answered, “You’re the one who had top marks in unarmed combat and law enforcement, right?”

She nodded, shyly curling in on herself. Katooni knocked their shoulders together, grinning at her.

“Are you guys here for security?” Caleb asked.

“No,” Cody answered, “With all the jedi masters here, you don’t really need security. We’re here because the generals wanted us to meet you, and vice versa, before we saw each-other on the field.”

If the others had been told differently, they didn’t let on. The younglings shared grins, and a few hushed whispers.

“Do you mind if _I_ ask _you_ a question?” Colt asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Technically,” Zatt, the nautolan, answered, “You already have. But go ahead.”

“Zatt!” Katooni chastised, elbowing him in the gut, “Be polite!”

Colt couldn’t bite down a smile. “Why aren’t you doing this at the Jedi Temple? From what I hear, these trials are pretty special. Why do this here instead?”

His ‘from what I hear’ reminded Cody of the game they’d been playing. How much had they heard? There was no rule against gossip, so long as it was harmless, but all the same. They didn’t want to get into trouble.

Caleb was the one who replied. “Yeah. Normally we would do it there, but the war has everyone stretched thin. Not everyone who wanted to be there could make it in time. So, they found a safe-ish Mid-Rim planet where everyone could meet up.”

Colt nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

The _Sir_ got a giggle out of most of them, but it wasn’t malicious.

“My turn!” Ganodi declared, raising her hand like she was in a classroom. Without giving them a moment to pick her, she pointed at Wolffe. “How’d you lose your eye?”

“Ganodi!” Katooni yelled, scandalized. She shot both Wolffe and Cody a deeply apologetic look.

Wolffe was frozen, flask halfway to his lips. He didn’t know how to react; he didn’t want to role his eyes at a superior officer, even a future one, but he hadn’t been prepared for such a blunt question.

“Asajj Ventress cut it out,” he answered bluntly.

There was a moment of drawn-out silence. Then-

“Woah! That’s so wizard!”

“You fought a _Sith?_ And you’re _alive?”_

“That must’ve been _horrible!”_

“Was she as skilled as everyone says?!”

Wolffe was bombarded by questions, now the sole focus of attention. Even Katooni, previously polite, joined the fray.

“Not just me!” he said quickly, “Cody was there, too. That’s where _his_ scar is from.”

The ‘go bother him!’ was unsaid, but definitely heard.

It was too late for him, however. The questions kept coming, hurtling at him like blasts from a repulsor cannon, and he was looking more and more overwhelmed. His brothers had the nerve to laugh at him.

Cody finally took pity.

“I remember that fight,” he said, interrupting them. “Would you like to hear about it?”

The younglings crowded around, getting comfortable. With Rex’s help, and the occasional monosyllabic comment from Wolffe, he launched into the story.

* * *

Petro yawned for the third time in ten minutes.

The troopers had all been sharing their stories. Some of it had been exaggerated for effect, but it wasn’t really necessary. The jedi had a way of making every encounter sound like something someone had made up. That’s just what they were like.

As Cody watched, Byph blinked slowly, his gleaming yellow pupils dilating then shrinking as he did so. He’d been told that was an Ithorian’s version of a yawn. Zatt himself quickly caught the bug, yawning wide enough to show off his thin, razor-like back teeth; perfect for grabbing and eating fish.

As Rex finished telling them how he’d been thrown off a wall on Geonosis, Cody cut in.

“This has been great,” he said, “But it’s late. Don’t you have a big day tomorrow?”

They groaned, clearly not wanting to move. They were comfortable. Several had claimed helpless troopers as pillows and chairs, and they were enjoying the warmth from the lantern.

Colt took over, slipping into a conspiratorial stage-whisper. “Between you and I,” he said, “I think some of you guys are ready for bed.”

He nodded towards Keeli, who had been letting Ganodi sit on his knee. She’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, and was snoring lightly. Her pointed green ears twitched in her sleep.

The kids who were still awake looked around. Tai and Sammo had Bly pinned between them, and he had an arm around the two of them to keep them from falling off the crate while they dozed. Zatt was leaning back against Colt’s knee, and was struggling to stay awake himself.

Honestly, Cody was getting tired, too. It had been a long day. The moonshine had taken most of the edge off, and he’d had to start forcing down his own yawns.

“You’re right,” Petro said unhappily. “Thanks for talking to us.”

“Anytime,” Rex answered, climbing to his feet at the same time they did.

Instead of waking her, Gungi – the wookie – simply lifted Ganodi off of Keeli’s knee, carrying her easily. Caleb and Petro pulled Tai and Sammo to their feet, and began leading them along.

Katooni and Scout were the last to go. She nudged Scout to go ahead, and turned back to them.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” she said, “Sorry for…them. And sorry for interrupting your game. Have a nice night.”

She bowed politely, then rushed to catch up to the other younglings. With that, they were gone.

So. They’d heard. He hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite them, but knowing how the universe worked, it probably would. Shit.

Well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. He found it an easy thing to dismiss right now, while pleasantly buzzed.

He wasn’t the only one. Keeli, Monkk, Rex, and Colt were at least as drunk as he was, if not more so. Cody felt a pang of guilt, knowing that a few half-dressed, tipsy commanders were their first introduction to clones; but they’d seemed taken enough with them. And with how tired they were, perhaps they’d forget.

Hopefully they’d forget.

 _Please_ let them forget.

* * *

Obi-Wan was quite enjoying the padawan trials so far.

There was some concern, of course, given that so many high-ranking generals, future high-ranking generals, and high-ranking clones were all together in one place; but the utmost care and secrecy had been taken. No-one knew where they were. So, Obi-Wan was not against having a late-night cup of caf and relaxing.

The younglings had been sent to bed, Master Sinubé herding them along with his cane. The clones had similarly retired. It was now just the masters, sitting around a bright lantern where their sleeping tents had been pitched.

“You know,” Anakin said, leaning back to cross his ankles in front of him, “We should make this a tradition. Bring initiates out to some far-off planet for their trials. They spend most of their time in the Temple; experiencing things out here before they hit padawanhood is good for them.”

“I agree vith Skywalker,” Master Di said, his thick accent and grumbling voice jarringly different from the clones, who Obi-Wan had spoken to almost exclusively for months now.

“And I,” Aayla added, “We could pick a new planet every year; Check up on old friends, and ze places we left behind.”

“Perhaps,” Master Windu replied, leaning over his cup of caf like he was worried someone might steal it. “But if we do make it a new tradition, it should only start _after_ the war. I’m not fond of us being this exposed.”

Murmurs of agreement circled the lantern. Conversation quickly turned back to the initiates.

“I’m quite fond of Caleb,” Depa Billaba said. “He’s inquisitive.”

“We know,” Windu answered, exhaustion radiating off of him. “Rest assured, you have scared off any and all other potential masters the boy could choose from.”

“I did let him decide,” Depa said in her defense, but she didn’t argue the point too strongly. She had, in fact, kept a close eye on him around other masters.

“Did you see anyone you liked, Master?” Anakin asked him, looking amused.

“I want to see them in action before I make any decisions,” Obi-Wan answered diplomatically.

“I’m sure whoever you pick will do well,” Ahsoka said, giving him a smile.

“Thank you, padawan,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Certain, you are, that a padawan, you can choose, hmm?” Master Yoda asked. “Seems have one, you already do.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Obi-Wan answered, “I believe it’s more of a joint-custody arrangement.”

Anakin barked out a good-natured laugh.

Aayla chimed in. “Are you insinuating zat you and Skywalker are divorced?”

“Exactly,” Anakin replied. “I got the starship, Obi-Wan got the droids, and we agreed to share the padawan.”

“You may keep the droids,” Obi-Wan said quickly, leading to more than a few snickers.

Anakin sat up a little, offended. “What’s wrong with my droids?”

“I thought they were _my_ droids?”

Ahsoka put her head in her hands.

“Masters!”

They looked up. Master Sinubé came hobbling up to them slowly.

“Ah,” Master Strahl said, rising, “Is it my turn on watch already?”

“No, no,” he replied, “I was- oh, is that mak’ara tea you have boiling?”

He gestured to a small pot hanging over a few burning coals to the side of the lantern, filling the air with a lovely aroma.

“You know, I once gained the evidence to arrest a drug lord on Coruscant because he had the same plant on his office desk as the kind used in making his preferred poison. It’s a distant cousin to the mak’ara – mak’ry, I believe it was-”

“Master?” Strahl gently interrupted. “The younglings?”

“Ah!” Sinubé said, regaining his train of thought. “They’re missing.”

There was a moment – a _very_ brief moment – of utter panic.

Then Master Yoda spread his awareness out through the Force and found them sneaking back up to their tents.

“Not missing, they are,” he said, “Only not in their beds.”

“Ah, yes,” Master Sinubé agreed, frowning. “Well, they _were_ missing.”

Obi-Wan struggled to get his heart rate back down. Sinubé had two modes: death by boredom, and death by cardiac arrest. If Anakin didn’t kill him first, the honour might just fall to him.

“On that spirited note,” Master Strahl said, dusting off his tunic. “I believe I’ll take my turn guarding the younglings. G’ night, all.”

He pat Obi-Wan on the shoulder as he passed, and Obi-Wan smiled. He’d gotten to know Feemor Strahl much better since his master’s death, and he was glad for it. He was a good man.

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave as well,” Master Windu said, standing. “It’s getting late.”

A few people agreed, sighing, and dusted themselves off. Obi-Wan decided to join them, wanting to be awake and aware when they went through the first bit of trials tomorrow.


	4. Babies Pt. 2: This Time They Do Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mando’a Translations (first how it’s used in context, then the literal translation):**  
>  _Buir:_ Father, lit. “Parent”.

Cody would never understand the jedi.

He was up at dawn that morning, training getting him awake and functional the moment there was enough light to work by. His head was thumping, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d worried it would be.

He stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air. The planet had frozen overnight. The tents, and their blacks, were insulated; so they felt nothing. But a fine, glittering blanket of frost lay over everything, draped over the trees and tents like linen hung out to dry.

The jedi, masters and initiates alike, were in a line along the cliffside. They were all kneeling, hands palm-down on their laps, eyes closed, and heads bowed. The only movement Cody could see was their deep breathing, and the puffs of smoke coming from their noses. Their warm breaths were synchronized, which he found unsettling.

Rex strolled out of the tent after him, and followed his gaze. A casual observer wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss, but the lines around his eyes were tight and a muscle jumped in his jaw. His hangover was a good deal worse than Cody’s.

The camp wasn’t still, in spite of the jedi being occupied. Astromechs rolled around, all of them busy with something. An astromech he recognized almost ran him down: R4-P17, Kenobi’s droid. A unit similar to R2-D2, with some actual second-series parts modified in by Skywalker, but a newer model. She had a red-and-white paintjob as opposed to R2’s blue-and-white, and she beeped out a lightning-quick _Hi-there-Cody-nice-to-see-you-got-to-go_ as she whizzed by.

They made their way to the food tent, leaving the Jedi and their droids to their weirdness. They’d be up and over when they were ready.

In the meantime, they got caf and porridge for breakfast. It had a sweet, thick texture, and Cody poured some blue milk over it as the Jedi’s chef droid told him to. It tasted _delicious_. He didn’t want to take more than his fair share, but he was sorely tempted to go back for thirds. And fourths. And fifths.

If he stayed here any longer, he would never be able to appreciate ration bars again.

Wolffe strolled up to them from the caf machine, chucking him a small silver strip of tablets.

“One under the tongue,” he grunted, “For the headache. Your gut’s your problem, though.”

“Thanks,” he replied, doing as he was told. Rex got the strip next, and copied the process.

Only two others – Bly and Grey – were in there before them, their red-and-yellow paint bright against the neutral colours the jedi preferred for their equipment. Everyone else wandered in later, some grouchier than others. It was an hour before the Jedi themselves arrived, speaking in quiet conversations and some stretching as they walked.

The clones stood at attention and saluted. The generals nodded in greeting, no longer surprised by the behaviour, but the younglings stared. They had no idea what to do, Cody realized as he sat down again. Whatever Jedi training involved, military procedure was not included. That responsibility might very well fall to him, if all goes to plan.

That was half-expected. He’d heard a few other commanders complain about the fact that their generals had very little military training. They were amazing fighters, of course; always calm and collected, and empathetic towards their men’s lives. But few of them even knew how to salute properly, let alone the right way to fill out a requisition form or comprehend the intricacies of military procedure. It looked like they would have even more trouble with the younglings.

Cody hadn’t had that problem. He hadn’t pressed the issue, because it wasn’t his business, but Kenobi had been an exception to the rule. He’d understood enough to surprise Cody later on, when he heard his brothers complaining. He knew forms and drills, knew the jargon, understood navigating large forces of combatants over long distances. Whatever the reason for it, Cody was grateful; and doubtful he’d get that lucky a second time.

Dueling was the first order of the day. Cody was glad they’d start with that; it gave him a good base to work with. No matter how promising any of the younglings were, if they couldn’t handle combat, they were wrong for the two-twelfth. It should make the process of elimination easier.

He couldn’t help but notice that last night’s “wandering master” was absent this morning. They were likely nearby; Cody doubted someone who showed up for the trials would leave before they started. But if they were, they were well hidden.

They gathered against the cliffside, forming a semicircle to make a small arena. A small, spherical droid hovered on one end, and Skywalker quickly tested it. A few red blaster bolts were fired into the woods, and then the trial began.

First up was Byph. Cody quickly opened up his file.

He seemed like a good, well-rounded student. His grades were about average, and he didn’t seem to excel in any particular field, but he’d passed every class – lightsaber combat included. However, it stated that he struggled with anxiety, and had to learn courage on his gathering; the trip the younglings took to collect crystals for their lightsabers.

He filed away as much of the information in his head as possible. A lot of this was relevant to the Jedi Maintenance Manual the commanders and medics passed around. He’d have the mother of all updates to draft later.

It seemed straightforward enough – right up until they set a helmet on him that covered his eyes. It was shaped like an upside-down bowl, and made it impossible to see.

Cody shot a look to Rex. This was a touch hardcore for children, wasn’t it?

Apparently not. While the kid stuttered here and there, he successfully redirected every bolt. A shield had been set up around the arena, keeping those on the outside from being hit, but Cody spent the entire session tense.

After a minute of this, he managed to redirect a bolt into the droid and stun it. He was breathing hard when he was done, but he’d managed it. He removed the helmet, bowed to Master Yoda and the other masters, and passed the helmet to the next student.

He got several thumps on the back from his clanmates as he passed, and beamed in response.

Cody liked him, but he might be too timid for the front lines. Caution was a virtue, but decisiveness was necessary for a future commander of the two-twelfth. If Cody could choose where to put him, he’d probably assign him with the pilots. Simulations were realistic enough that one could mentally detach themselves from a real fight. Having that to fall back on might make it easier for him to deal with combat, so long as he didn’t become reckless as a result.

Next up was the redhead, Cal. He did succeed in stunning the droid, but it took longer for him than it had Byph, and he took a graze to the side as he did so. His file wasn’t too bad; he had passed each class, and possessed a strong interest in history and archaeology within relation to the jedi order. He was also _psychometric,_ though Cody would have to ask what that meant. He enjoyed spending time in the archives, learning about relics and artifacts of the order’s history.

He might do well; bravery didn’t seem to be a problem here, and he was academically inclined, like Kenobi. But his saber skills were a deep concern. They regularly got attacked by Grievous, Ventress, pirates, separatists; whoever they got _had_ to be able to fight, and _well._ That simply wasn’t optional.

Caleb was actually rather good. His fighting was the best he’d seen thus far, and while his grades weren’t always the best, he showed a deeply inquisitive nature. Cody didn’t spend much time on him, though. There was no point. He wasn’t about to try his luck against Billaba, or by extension, Grey.

Ganodi, the cute little rhodian who’d fallen asleep on Keeli, also did well. She had top marks in her generation for piloting, and had spunk. The men would absolutely love her. She passed her trial well, stunning the droid quickly, but she had a bit of a reckless streak he didn’t like. There were at least two occasions where she nearly got hit. He marked her down as a _maybe._

Gungi was next. The little wookie did well; he did take a hit, though he disabled the droid in the quickest time yet, and his thick fur took the stun for him. Cody couldn’t help but wince as the bolt struck, but all the wookie did was shudder, and then _giggle._ Apparently, it was ticklish. He had a natural gift for mechanical engineering, but had a tendency towards impatience that ought to be worked on. He, too, got marked as a _maybe;_ though if it came between the two of them, he preferred Gungi. Anyone who laughed off blaster bolts would get immediate approval from him.

Katooni was next. She was slower than Gungi and Ganodi, by virtue of being more careful, but ultimately successful. She had a grace to her movements that belied hours of practice. Her file practically glowed; with every subject put together, she was the second-best student of her entire generation.

Now her, he liked. She had gone the extra mile the night before to keep the other students in line, and while she’d failed, it had been a valiant attempt. She might not be the best with a saber, but her skills were adequate for now; and she was someone who seemed to have enough sense to actually survive the war.

However, going by her grades, she seemed to be a perfectionist; constantly pushing herself to be better. Cody would have to be a hypocrite to condemn it, but it was a concern. She would take every failure personally, including the losses of men under her command. The toll of that could be rough.

If he could, he’d put her with the medics; if you’re going to break your back doing something, it may as well be finding better ways to treat broken backs.

She, too, got put down as a _maybe._

Petro followed; he was the best with a saber by far, and seemed to enjoy the exercise; but his file showed a lack of awareness of the skill levels of his peers. He had a tendency to push his friends too hard, thinking they could take it; and during his gathering, he had revealed and overcame a flaw of selfishness. Cody could already see him racing ahead in battle, leaving his troopers behind to get slaughtered, thinking they’d keep up.

He decided a more ambitious commander could deal with that; though of course, he’d work with whatever Kenobi gave him.

Sammo and Tai followed quickly after, neither of them truly noteworthy. Tai had showed promise as an archivist; Sammo possessed a talent for healing. The two fell in the average range for Saberwork, and weren’t truly worth commenting on.

Third-to-last grabbed his attention, however. Tallisibeth “Scout” Enwandung-Esterhazy; and with a mouthful of a name like that, he could understand why even her masters used her nickname.

She was definitely the most nervous going into her session, and Tai passed on her helmet with a quiet, “Good luck.”

Cody watched Antilles – standing well outside of Yoda’s gimmer stick-range – as Scout started. He had her file open, but other than that, he showed no sign he was considering her. His face was a blank slate.

She managed to keep from being hit very well; though at least one of the bolts she caught by luck rather than anything else. She took the longest of all; almost a full two minutes, and took a graze to her arm as she moved. But she disabled the droid successfully. She was panting like she’d run a marathon when she was done, but the claps on the back from her peers were especially enthusiastic.

Antilles didn’t react whatsoever.

Tyzen, the zabrak boy, followed. He did alright, though again, he wasn’t exceptional.

The very last was Zatt. He also did well, though Cody ruled him out quickly. He had a record, according to a note added to the end of his file. He’d sliced through the Temple archives, looking for things he wasn’t cleared to see. It might’ve been cold to dismiss him on principle; especially since Skywalker had been a podracer in his early days. But Cody wanted someone trustworthy, who wouldn’t bring in more trouble than they were worth.

“That’s a very good sign,” Kenobi said, breaking the long silence. “They all passed. It’s better than we had hoped for.”

Cody nodded, tucking his datapad under one arm and swapping his bucket to his other side.

“Your thoughts so far, Sir?”

“We still have a whole day of classes to see,” Kenobi replied, “Let’s not get hasty.”

Cody just managed not to role his eyes.

Next up was flight simulation. While only some younglings would go on to take piloting as a class, they’d all been taught the basics, and had to be prepared to fly in an emergency. They also had to fly through obstacles and overwhelming, stressful circumstances; like a dogfight.

While they’d been busy with dueling, the astromechs that rolled around had set up the simulator; a large metal sphere with a mock cockpit inside, buried partly in the ground between the cliff and the camp.

One by one, the initiates went. Ganodi’s was the most interesting. Things went well at first; they had their datapads linked to a camera in the simulator. He almost thought it would be an uneventful, successful trial for her.

Then a shot from the side clocked her out of nowhere, just in the blind spot of her ship. Red lights began flashing, alarms started to wail, and holographic cracks appeared all along the screen, blocking her sight.

She hesitated only a moment. She hit a button on the console, yanked the lever next to her seat, and shot straight out of the simulator.

If the transition from the dark interior to the bright outdoors phased her, she didn’t let it show. She went up, up, almost to the treetops; then began to fall. She curled elegantly into a front flip, and hit the ground gently; then slipped as her momentum carried her farther forward than intended. She tucked and rolled straight into Master Di, who caught her with ease.

She bounced back to her feet, embarrassed, but not put out.

“Sorry, Master. Thank you,” she said, dipping into a short bow and jogging back to her friends. They hid their snickering poorly.

She’s just fallen fifty feet, he thought. At _least._ And she just…brushes it off.

He glanced to see his brothers’ reactions. He wasn’t the only one perturbed; Wolffe was still, staring between the sky and the spot where she’d landed. Rex looked to Cody, and while he had his bucket on, Cody knew that was his “what the fuck?” body language. Keeli was hurriedly making notes on his datapad.

Where did they find these kids?

The third trial involved mechanics. Again, they had all received basic education in the subject, and had to be proficient; though they could continue it as a subject if they chose to.

Each youngling was given a broken speeder, a toolkit, and one hour to figure out the problem and fix it.

Gungi finished his work first. It took him all of ten minutes. The speeder jumped to life with a purr, and his master nodded at him in congratulations. Cody ranked him higher on the list of potential padawans. That kind of prowess could prove useful. Zatt was only two minutes behind, and the others – save for Katooni and Petro – all followed suit. They both took till the very last minute to fix their speeders, but fortunately managed.

After this, they broke for lunch. The jedi and padawans sat separate from each-other, to give the masters time to discuss the trials so far; over some incredible herb-and-meat soup. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but he could eat it forever.

“Ganodi inspires joy,” General Di said while he passed the salt to Keeli. “Doez anyone wish to take her on?”

“She is quite determined, and well qualified,” Kenobi answered serenely, “Though now I imagine I’ll have to fight you for her?”

“Ze choice iz herz,” he grunted.

Cody caught Keeli biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. General Di’s body language – tense shoulders, crossed arms – let on that he would, in fact, fight for her. He and Keeli had been the only survivors of their entire platoon, while covering Cham Syndulla’s retreat on Ryloth. He was a fighter. And while he certainly had faith, Cody didn’t like Kenobi’s odds.

“Shame,” Kenobi answered, showing no remorse at all, “At least young Caleb is still available?”

“Try,” Billaba said, equally serene.

Several people hid chuckles behind coughs and cleared throats.

“I’m quite eem-pressed with Gungi,” Secura said, nudging the conversation back on track. “He iz a talented mechanic, and I’m eager to see hiz progress.”

General Vos beamed. “My first grand-padawan, a sweet little wookie? I’m so proud.”

General Secura rolled her eyes. “Pleaz. I’m only een-terested. We will see how he doez.”

Cody made a mental note to grab Kenobi’s opinion on Gungi when he could. They may have to move fast on that front.

“Zatt is skilled in technology,” General Ti said, dishing blurg meat into her now-empty soup bowl. “And his interest in biology is keen. He might enjoy Kamino.”

Colt sat up a little straighter, eyes brightening. He would _love_ to have a jedi cadet. And being nautolan, Zatt would feel right at home on the water planet.

“Katooni did well, too,” Ahsoka chipped in, “She’s incredibly bright. And responsible.”

“True,” Kenobi said, “She’s one of the best students out of the bunch. She’ll make an excellent jedi.”

“I liked Byph,” General Fisto commented, “He needs a bit of a push, but he’s kind. And determined to succeed. I’d like to see what he becomes.”

They went back and forth like that till the conch shell blew, and they all returned to the trials.

The next two – one glorified pop quiz on subjects like history, law, and science, and the other involving calming and befriending a pissed-off tooka – passed quickly. Cody finally got bored enough to lock down his helmet’s speakers and open up the private comms.

 _“-On’t CARE_ about your _opinion_ on _biology!”_ Keeli yelled, nearly making him jump. “ _Just ‘cause she’s rhodian, doesn’t mean she’d automatically work better with an aquatic master! She’d learn well with General Di!”_

Bly cut in. He sounded amused. _“You just like her cause she fell asleep on you! We all know you’d secretly love to be a_ buir.”

 _“How are you all standing so still while having such an intense argument?”_ Rex asked.

 _“Practice,”_ Wolffe groaned. A quiet _beep_ indicated he left the call.

 _“Listen!”_ Keeli insisted, _“Even if we’re assigned to a desert planet, or something similar, niktos drink next to nothing. She could easily mooch off of his share! It wouldn’t even strain water resources!”_

 _“All this yelling is giving me a headache,”_ Grey said, _“If you can’t keep it civil, move it to a private network.”_

 _“Cody,”_ Rex said, _“What does Kenobi think? Is the two-twelfth getting a mascot?”_

 _“Jedi padawans aren’t mascots,”_ he replied, _“And I don’t know. He’s being tight-lipped on that front.”_

 _“Sounds about right,”_ he said, _“And yes, they are.”_

 _“So what do you think, then?”_ Keeli demanded, _“Would Ganodi work best with an amphibian master? Or any_ good _master?”_

 _“Good question,”_ he answered, then shut off his commlink. A smart soldier knew which battles to pick, and that was one sarlacc pit he’d circle around.

…

The last exercise before the end of the day was first aid. The commanders were invited in as guinea pigs.

They were told to partner up. Keeli made a beeline for Ganodi, but Monkk was closer, and grabbed her first. He was nice enough to Zatt, who asked him to help, but he did seem disappointed he couldn’t get Ganodi.

Cody managed to discreetly grab Katooni. Gungi was picked up by Bly, Wolffe by Byph, and Grey grabbed Caleb before anyone could get any bright ideas.

Each pair stood next to a stretcher laid on the ground, a small first aid kit, and a datapad. That confused Cody till he remembered the jedi ones had a program that recorded breathing and pulse for meditative purposes. If they thought creatively, they all could use that to really make sure the troopers were alright.

“Excellent!” Master Nema said, “Now, younglings, your clone troopers are injured, and there are no medics nearby. You must care for them till one appears; in this case, you must simply fix them up to the best of your abilities."

Caleb raised a hand.

“But what’s wrong with them?”

“They will each be told what is wrong with them over their comms. _You_ must figure it out by listening to what they tell you about their injury, and what you can determine off of your datapads.”

Cody quickly checked his comms were still on. He heard Strahl’s voice come through loud and clear, and only just noticed he couldn’t find the master anywhere.

_“You all have one broken leg, one fractured arm, and a concussion. You will all be fine; however, try to be difficult. They need to work for this.”_

They sat down and leant back, as if they were injured. Cody made it a point to hold his leg and arm at a weird angle.

“Alright,” Katooni asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Not a clue,” Cody answered.

She giggled. Her eyes crinkled a little in the corners when she laughed, not unlike Kenobi. Those would be permanent lines, when she got older.

 _If_ she got older.

“Alright, then,” she said, “What hurts?”

“Um…Everything.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but she gave him a look. “Okay. Let me check your neck, and then I’ll try to take your helmet off to see if that could help.”

“Sounds good to me, Sir. You’re the boss.”

Here, her smile did fall away. She shuffled, uncomfortable.

She doesn’t like that, he thought. She’s responsible, but treats responsibility with a healthy kind of fear.

That’s good. It meant she wouldn’t treat her obligations cavalierly. He should point her in Antilles’ direction. She might be able to knock some sense into him.

She put her hands around his neck, feeling for damage. She wouldn’t find any, but she was following the general procedure for what to do well. But her hands were so small. He hadn’t really noticed before, but she really was tiny. If they stood beside each-other, her head would just meet the middle of his ribcage.

He hoped she’d hit a growth spurt before she got involved in any serious action. At this rate, one of his biggest battlefield concerns would be losing her, rather than her being hit or captured. How do you keep track of someone so small during massive campaigns?

(Commander Thire, who was absent, served with General Yoda. He made a mental note to ask him for advice.)

Over Katooni’s head, he caught Kenobi watching them. He pursed his lips to hide a smile, and failed at it. He tapped the inside of his wrist twice; a clone sign meaning “Strength”. Cody reminded himself that throwing rocks at his superior officer would be a bad look.

He glanced around at the others. Zatt was trying to get Keeli to lie on the stretcher, but he refused. He was standing with all of his weight on one leg, and cradling one arm, so figuring out the damage wasn’t hard; but he was going with the too-concussed-for-orders routine.

Byph was trying to follow Katooni’s lead, but Wolffe was being…Wolffe. He refused to let Byph work. When the ithorian tried to reach for his neck anyway, Wolffe covered it with his hands, refusing to let him check it.

“Okay,” Katooni said. “Look left then right for me, please.”

He did as she asked, making sure to keep his movements stiff and slow.

She nodded firmly. “Now, tilt your head side to side, like you’ve got water in your ears and are trying to dislodge it.”

Again, he did as she said.

“Good,” she said. “I’m going to take off your helmet, now.”

Katooni gently undid the latches under his jaw, and he took a deep breath of cool air. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, spurring her on.

“Alright,” she said, “Does your head hurt?”

“Hmm… A little.”

“Can you see me?”

“Kind of.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up three fingers.

“Four…and a half.”

She laughed, then quickly caught herself. “Okay. I think you’re concussed. I’ll give you some painkillers and some anti-inflammatories. Then I’m going to pat down your limbs to see if something is wrong there.”

“Alright, Sir.”

She correctly inserted the fake medicine and set his leg and arm. They were one of the first ones done. They were only interrupted twice; once by Byph, and once by Zatt.

Byph let out a string of clicks and chirps. He pointed at Wolffe, then at his neck, and while the words were indiscernible, the order was clear. Wolffe removed his hands and let him work.

Zatt very nearly lost his temper, but managed to calm himself down and guilt Keeli into the stretcher with a reminder that (if this were a real battle) there were others in need of help, and Keeli was wasting valuable time.

“Well done, students!” Master Nema said when everyone was done. “You have all passed your first day. Please unburden and thank your troopers.”

Katooni pulled off the leg brace she’d made from two branches and her belt. She then pulled off the sling made of her outer robe, and gave him back his helmet with a shy smile.

They both stood.

“Thank you, Commander Cody,” she said, bowing lightly.

“You’re welcome, Sir,” he replied, saluting.

After that, they broke for dinner. Cody was happy about that; the day had been informative, but Cody had work to do. He’d gotten nothing done; he could picture his datapad receiving muted notification after muted notification, growing more and more malicious with each act of being ignored. Any longer, and the thing might mutiny.

There definitely wouldn’t be stories and moonshine that night, unfortunately.

Dinner was delicious – blurg meat, some kind of mashed gourd, chopped pieces of meiloorun and jogan fruit with more of that lovely pink rice – but uneventful. Yoda needled Antilles a bit more, pointing out how Scout had passed every trial today. Not well, in some cases, but all the same. Antilles was in an even worse mood than the previous night. It seems he’d begun to realize she might just make it after all.

Kenobi walked back with him to his tent after dark. Cody appreciated both the company, and the presence of someone who kept him from tripping over tent stakes hooked into the ground. Most of the camp was visible, with yellow lantern light shining out from here and there, but the places cast in shadows by the tents were pitch black. More than one unlucky trooper had been stake-bitten already, and he didn’t wish to join their ranks.

They remained quiet, each wrapped in their own thoughts, until they passed the small cluster of tents belonging to the younglings. There were four of them pressed into a loose circle, meaning they slept three people a tent. Not a bad call, considering they were small enough to make it work. In the middle of their circle, a yellow lantern illuminated the area, and the younglings’ laughter and shuffling in the dirt could be heard.

Kenobi smile one of those rare, soft smiles. It sharpened into a wicked grin when he caught their conversation.

“-being _preposterous.”_ Katooni was saying, “Master Di is an excellent Master! And I heard him mention that he was hoping for a set of pilots with his new troops, and Ganodi would fit in well with them.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” That was Petro, if Cody wasn’t mistaken. The condescending tone gave it away. “I’m just saying that if one of us did get apprenticed to-”

“Not this again!” Katooni chastised with the exasperation of someone repeating something very simple for the hundredth time. It was a tone Cody knew personally.

“Just because Master Kenobi is one of the most well-known masters, does not automatically mean he’s the _best_ one! Every padawan and master pairing is unique. A master could be the most brilliant and talented jedi in the galaxy, and _still_ be wrong for a certain padawan!”

It would take a _much_ stronger man than Kenobi to resist such perfect bait.

“Quite right,” he said, stepping into the circle.

Katooni yelped and jumped to her feet, spinning to look at the both of them with wide eyes. The others jumped as well. He’d come out right behind the poor initiate.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the excellent work you did today,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just appeared out of thin air scared them half to death.

It took them a moment to find their tongues.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi,” Katooni squeaked out, eyes now fixed on a far point in the horizon.

He bowed his head in a quick acknowledgement, and moved on. Behind them, Cody heard Petro say, _“Wait to go,_ Katooni.”

“Shut. Up.” She hissed. Snickers broke out among the group.

Cody waited till they were out of hearing range, before turning to Kenobi.

“Was that absolutely necessary, Sir?”

He was going for a disapproving tone, but he was too amused to make it work. Kenobi turned to him with a sly smile as they continued on.

“You would have done exactly the same thing,” Kenobi said, “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Cody would. He had, actually. When troopers formed a circle around themselves in the back of a hallway, they had a tendency to think everyone around them went deaf. It certainly didn’t help that the corridors of a venator-class star destroyer made your voice echo strangely, letting it carry farther than you felt it should.

“True,” he said, “Still, it’s a bit mean to do that to shinnies, isn’t it?”

“Do jedi count as shinnies?” Kenobi asked no-one in particular.

 _“Those_ do.”

Kenobi’s laugh was cut off into silence before it could really start. He froze.

Cody automatically drew his weapon and did a quick check of their surroundings; left, behind, up, right. He needn’t have. The problem was to the front.

The stranger – the black cloak without a body – stood in front of Cody’s tent.

They stayed there for a moment, both of them as still as statues. Kenobi didn’t move. Neither did the stranger.

Cody didn’t put his blaster down.

After a painfully drawn-out silence, Kenobi spoke. It was no more than a whisper.

“They want to speak to me,” he said, not turning to look at him. “And they want to meet you.”

 _Me?_ He thought. He projected the thought Kenobi’s way, not taking his eyes off the stranger.

He hummed an understanding. There was another silence, in which the stranger refused to move. The stranger's cloak flapped lightly in the breeze. Kenobi’s did too, brushing Cody’s greaves – the part of his armour covering his calf. It was oddly reassuring.

“Come,” Kenobi said, “We’re not in danger. All they want to do is speak.”

Reluctantly, Cody re-holstered his blaster to his back. He thought solidly of the vibroblade in his belt, the spare attached to the inside of his gauntlet, and the hand grenades in the back of his belt.

The closer they walked to the stranger, the colder the air got. The yellow light felt more washed out, and the breeze whipped them harder. All the hair on Cody’s body stood up straight, gooseflesh shivering over him in a wave. He knew that sensation; that’s the Force, what it feels like when you step into it. He halted, only a few feet away, refusing to get closer.

Kenobi’s a braver man. Or stupider. Jury’s out.

He stepped in, standing at what Cody has come to think of as the jedi version of At Attention: back straight, chin up, hands tucked neatly into the broad sleeves of his robe. His feet rested close together, and he stood at his full height.

He bowed in a long, smooth, elegant motion.

“Master,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

Master. No name afterwards. This couldn’t be _Kenobi’s_ master; he’d died on Naboo. Cody had heard the story from Alpha-Seventeen himself, after learning he’d been assigned the ‘suicidal, ginger disaster’. So who were they?

The voice that came out of the shadow of the hood offered little clarity. Cody couldn’t tell gender, couldn’t tell emotion. It felt layered, almost, like voices in a choir; all the same tone, the same pitch, but you could hear there was more than one. It sent another shudder down his spine, and he finally stepped closer; he wanted himself between it and Kenobi. Didn’t like the way that voice made him feel.

_You look well. The council wants to know why I’m here._

“We’ll admit,” he said, “We’re curious. You haven’t taken a student in…some time. Is it to do with them, or us?”

 _Both,_ it said.

They said. But…whatever this _thing_ was, to Cody, It didn’t feel like a person. Or a droid. It felt like something else, something wrong; something trying to _appear_ like a person, and _just_ failing at it. It triggered something instinctive to flee.

_Them, mostly. And you, to an extent._

There was still no movement from the thing. Just…a shape. Cody hated not being able to read Its face, if It had one. Judge how worried he should be. Kenobi had assured him they weren’t in danger, but Kenobi’s definition of _dangerous_ was the least reliable thing about him.

That was actually a compliment, even if he wouldn’t take it as one.

 _I want Tyzen Xebec,_ It said.

The zabrak boy. Cody thought back; he’d been shy, a little lost in his own world. He’d hung back, the previous night. He’d listened to the stories, but he mostly watched, checking the camp behind and around them periodically. He watched their backs. Cody had liked that.

“Of course,” General Kenobi replied, not blanching at all at the request. “I believe Master Ri’in showed an interest in him, as did Master Nu, of all people. You may have to check with them.”

A long moment of silence followed this. Cody felt like the thing was processing the information, turning it over, considering it. He stood at Kenobi’s shoulder, only a few feet away from it.

 _They will defer to me,_ It said. _They will allow me to take him. They have said as much._

Kenobi nodded. “I’ll ensure the council is informed of this. Thank you.”

The thing didn’t reply, didn’t change or shift. It stayed right where it was, letting the silence hang.

Cody got to witness a truly rare sight: Obi-Wan Kenobi, the famous Negotiator, ever-so-slightly ruffled in a social situation. He didn’t quite fidget, didn’t curl up, but his expression was puzzled.

“Er,” he said, “If I may ask, why Tyzen Xebec?”

_…Master Ropal was planning to take him on. Train him as his replacement. He now cannot. So I will._

Ropal. That name, Cody knew; that was the master who had guarded the holocron bearing the names of Force Sensitive children all over the galaxy. He had died trying to protect it near the beginning of the war.

Kenobi bowed again. “Thank you. It will be a relief to have one of yours guarding our young.”

There was no reaction, but some of the tension in the air seemed to ease.

The figure finally moved. A slow, progressive turn of the hood towards Kenobi. It must have communicated somehow, because while Cody heard and felt nothing new, Kenobi reacted. He blinked, eyebrows raising, then flushed. Even at night, his skin was light enough that all the colour showed through.

“Ah,” he said, shuffling his feet slightly. He suddenly resembled the younglings; shy, awkward; not quite certain of himself.

“I’ll, erm, excuse myself then?”

“Sir?” Cody asked, finally turning to look at him properly.

“It’s alright,” he said, raising a hand placatingly to Cody. “They wish to speak to _you._ Privately.”

Privately. Him. No, absolutely not. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“I’ll just…head back to my tent,” he continued, stepping back, and something distressingly close to panic lurched in his chest.

Kenobi paused, and this time, the smile he sent was a little more sincere. _Can’t read minds,_ he’d said. Cody wanted to scoff.

“It’s alright,” he repeated. “They don’t bite. I’ll…see you in the morning?”

Kenobi engaged in a strategic retreat, and Cody made a note to swap all his caf out with decaf. Fuck. All of this.

He turned back to the hood.

It turned back to him.

He waited.

They waited a while. He didn’t know if he was meant to say something, or if they were looking for something first. The feeling of the Force was still there, had him wired, and he hated it. Hated the oversensitive feeling. Every breeze sent a fresh wave of goosebumps over him, and he stamped down on the urge to put some distance between them.

Finally, he gave up.

“Sir,” he said, because he had no idea what else to call a jedi. He was certainly not calling it _master._ “What is this about?”

Please let Kenobi be right about the biting.

 _You’re Commander Cody,_ It said. _You are the one your brothers defer to._

“Yes, Sir,” he said, “I’m a Commander. That’s my job.”

He hoped he said it factually, and not with the sharp edge of sarcasm he wanted to say it with.

 _Don’t call me Sir,_ It said.

“What am I supposed to call you, then?”

_You should not be speaking of me at all, and if you speak in my direction, I will listen and answer. In light of that, you won’t need a name._

He tried not to sigh. He was starting to realize that he may have, horror of all horrors, _lucked out_ with Kenobi.

“Alright then,” he said, snapping off the _Sir_ he almost automatically tacked onto the end. He decided to follow Kenobi’s formula.

“What can I do for you?”

 _You say your brothers defer to you because you are a Commander,_ It said. There was still no emotion in It’s voice. It was still deeply disconcerting.

_If that’s the case, what do you call a Commander of Commanders?_

It took Cody a second, but then it clicked. His face stayed impassive, because he’s not some damn shiny wearing every expression they can. But he felt his heart rate stutter in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, biting down on another _Sir._ “I don’t understand what you mean?”

 _Playing stupid doesn’t work for you,_ It said.

He refused to answer.

 _I have no obligation to speak to the Council,_ It continued, _and I will not acknowledge the sovereignty of slavers. I will not speak to the Republic, or the kaminoans. I want to know who rules the clones. Who will they listen to? Is it you?_

He thought. He…it isn’t everyone. Each Battalion answers to their commander, each commander to their jedi, but primarily the Marshall Commander – the trooper in charge of a Corps.

There are twenty Marshall Commanders, to go with each Corps. To go with each High Jedi General. 

Cody is the oldest. He was personally trained by Alpha-Seventeen, works right alongside the most influential jedi of the War. Not everyone is loyal to him; but they…

They don’t want to be what they are. There’s no shame or harm in being a soldier, but there _is_ in being a slave. Cody’s known that for a long time – long enough that he remembers Jango Fett refusing to meet his eyes, looking over his head rather than down at him, when he had asked him what they were.

He doesn’t think he’s a slave. He certainly doesn’t want to be, and he isn’t comfortable thinking about it. But if he isn’t a slave, he doesn’t know what other word works better.

He plans to leave. He has no real loyalty to the Republic, not them specifically. Especially not after two-and-a-half years of war. It started as a pipe dream; but then he’d tried to work it out. How many of them were they? How much food would they need, how much space, how much time? Slowly, he’d begun to navigate the concept, and craft an actual plan.

He isn't the only one. Ponds has sworn that if Cody could find a way to leave, he and his would follow. Baccara has sworn that if Cody could get him and his men out of wild space, that if he could bring them home and keep them from being cut off from their brothers again, they’d do the same.

Fox swore that if he could arrange things so that he’d never have to run an errand for another senator ever again, he’d kiss his damn boots. He’d been joking, at the time, but there had been a thread of honesty underneath it.

“What do you want?” he asked, feeling like he was admitting a dirty secret simply by continuing to speak.

 _I have found a child,_ It said. _A Force Sensitive. They could be a brilliant jedi._

It paused. _They’re a clone. Two years old. Still on Kamino._

Cody’s blood froze.

“No,” he said. “No, it- you can’t. If the cloners found out-”

He stopped himself. He shouldn’t say it. They don’t speak of it – playing stupid is the first proper skill any trooper learns. But if the clones were too good at what they were doing – too quick, too strong, too sharp – they would vanish.

It was the jedi, Cody thought. If some of the younglings were capable of becoming jedi, how comfortable would the jedi be sending them to die?

It wasn’t common. Only three troopers in history had actually vanished for a reason that couldn’t have been anything else. But a few of them were just there, just on the cusp. Alpha snatched them as ARCs before the kaminoans could get them, and Ti refused to let them decommission anyone, but the kaminoans were still in control there. There was still a real danger.

The figure shifted.

_Is the child in danger?_

He didn’t answer.

_If the child is in danger, I cannot leave them where they are. They don’t have to be a jedi, but they cannot stay._

“Can I stop you?” he asked.

_No._

He sighed.

“The jedi will know. What will they do? What will the kaminoans do?”

_The jedi will do nothing. The kaminoans will be upset, but they can’t stop me either. I will check the others, with your permission. Even once they figure it out, the Republic will not let them stop the war. They both have too much to lose._

“Both?”

_The Republic will not release their power of their own free will. They own the land the Temple is built on; they also have formal wardships over all jedi younglings under sixteen standard years. We will lose our home. Our children. We cannot stop this ourselves anymore._

Cody kept quiet. He had suspected something of the like. The jedi seemed to be the opposite of the warmongering type. But hearing it, all the same – he felt for them. This war isn’t what they wanted, not what the clones want.

This whole thing was one massive migraine.

The figure didn’t move, waiting for his reaction. It didn’t feel impatient; it didn’t feel like anything. But he doesn’t want to deal with it any longer than necessary.

“If you’re going to take them anyway,” he said. “They’ll be safer in the Temple than anywhere else I can think of. If you find anyone else who could be a Jedi, you can take them too. But-”

He paused. “If _you_ can find a safe place for them, that’s _not_ the Temple, that would be ideal.”

It felt like a betrayal, but – Kamino wouldn’t be safe for them. Even Alpha could be worked around, and Ti likely wouldn’t even know if something happened. Cody had worked with them long enough to know that the jedi only _seemed_ omniscient.

“If you find anyone who’s Force Sensitive enough to improve their fighting, their abilities, but not enough to be a jedi, tell Alpha-Seventeen about them. He’ll be difficult and suspicious, but he’ll protect them.”

 _Thank you,_ It said. _We will do the best we can for them._

The figure bowed, then turned, and stepped around him. As they do, that shudder in the Force hits him again, harder, and his knees go weak. His head spun.

When he glanced behind him to see where It went, there was nothing there.

He dragged himself into his tent. It’s normal, everything left exactly where it was before. His cot is untouched. His charging port for his helmet’s HUD is sitting on the floor by the head of his cot, and Rex is asleep.

He must’ve slept through the entire thing. Cody almost wishes he had, too.

He crashed into sleep immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Stranger:** This character is inspired by the Dark Woman, a wandering master who devoted herself so entirely to the Force, she completely discarded her entire identity. As gender is somewhat wrapped up in identity, I've made it so that they discarded that, too.  
> One more chapter to go! I'm so excited!


	5. Avoidance Isn't Cowardly, It's Just Good Strategy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando’a Translations (first how it’s used in context, then the literal translation):**
> 
> _Vod:_ Brother, lit. “Sibling”.

The moment they woke up, Rex knew something was wrong.

He was an observant bastard. Cody didn’t even try to hide it. He’d learnt better.

He shook his head the moment Rex opened his mouth. He didn’t look happy about it, but he obeyed. He wasn't about to discuss what had happened where they could be overheard.

Cody was blessedly able to spend the day doing paperwork. He got caught up on everything that needed doing urgently, taking a load of stress off his shoulders. On top of that, it was a justifiable method of ignoring the last night’s conversation.

Force, Kenobi was going to be _unbearable._ The man had an insatiable curiosity, and it knew no limits. He was going to badger Cody incessantly, and lying wouldn’t work on him.

They all knew their jedi, knew them to be kind and respectful on the whole, but they still didn’t want to push the boundaries of their niceties. Old habits died hard, and they weren't about to make trouble for themselves. 

When they got up, most of the jedi and all of the younglings were gone. Only their teachers were still around. General Strahl explained that that the next trial was a part obstacle-course, part scavenger hunt, part riddle; and was generally done without visitors present, if there were any to begin with. Only Master Yoda and prospective masters watched.

“How long do you think we’ll be here for?” Rex asked, enthusiastically helping the cleaning droids with the leftover food.

“Only another day, maybe,” Cody answered, “I talked to Kenobi some last night. Today will be spent on the main trial. This evening and the night will be deliberation by the masters on who they’d pick. Tomorrow, the masters will request the padawans they’ve chosen, and after dinner, we leave.”

Rex nodded, as did Bly, who’d been listening in. They’d gathered themselves in the food tent, which was occupied solely by clones, and were all reviewing paperwork or otherwise staying occupied.

The time passed quickly. It was a beautiful, quiet planet, and for once, Cody had no bad feelings or hyper-sensitive nerves keeping him on edge. The night before still bothered him, but in the light of day, it felt distant and meaningless. He truly felt safe here. The work flew by with less stress than expected, and the calming drone of his brother’s voices soothed him even further. Halfway between noon and sunset, he set his datapad down and simply laid back, relaxing.

Of course, this is when his brothers decided to pounce.

“I already know who I’m getting,” Grey was saying, running a cloth over the blood-coloured streaks on his helmet. “General Billaba’s determined; she wants the little guy who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Have fun with that, _vod,”_ Bly snarked. “I’ll probably be getting the little wookie. I really hope the rumours about them shedding are spacertales.”

A few of them chuckled. Then Wolffe asked, “And you, Cody?”

He hummed, not eager to put the effort into joining in. “Not sure. Kenobi’s on the fence. Not eager to put a youngling in the trouble he gets into.”

“But he has an idea?” Rex pressed.

“Maybe,” Cody answered firmly, leaving it at that.

“Let him catch up on his beauty rest,” Monkk, bless him, cuts in. “Keeli, how about…”

Cody drifted off sometime afterwards. He felt like he was floating a bit, like he could actually relax. It was a foreign sensation, but far from an unwelcome one.

Rex kicked him awake right before the jedi showed back up. He blinked and looked around, seeing the dark grey-blue of the sky outside. He’d missed sunset.

Rex gave him a concerned look. He didn’t normally drift off like this, he knew, but he just gave his brother a quick nod and quickly got his bearings.

The droids had just finished setting out dinner. Richly spiced soups, with some kind of roasted avian and even more fruit.

The younglings wandered in first, dragging their feet. They were covered in dirt, and sopping wet. They didn’t look disappointed or sad – just exhausted. Without discussing it, or even thinking about it, the clones backed off and let them eat first.

The masters followed after them, also looking tired, though cleaner, and more dignified than the kids. Their expressions ranged from grim to thoughtful to pained.

 _Something’s happened,_ he thought, heart sinking.

He caught Rex’s eye, raised his eyebrows. Rex caught the message easily, and went off to find Commander Tano. Whatever happened, she’d fess up to it easier than anyone else. Especially if Rex was the one asking.

He glanced around, training keeping him aware of his surroundings, and accidently caught Kenobi’s eyes. He’s one of those trapped between grim and pained, but there’s a flash of curiosity there still.

It was cowardly, and he couldn’t help but hope that none of his brothers noticed; but he slipped out the back of the tent before Kenobi could catch him. That particular talk could wait until tomorrow; besides, he seemed to have more important things to worry about tonight.

…

The next morning had everyone mostly refreshed. Cody started off by sneaking up to the food tent before anyone else and snagging last night’s leftovers alongside breakfast, and could confirm he had _absolutely_ been ruined for ration bars. He’d never be able to go back to them without wistfully thinking of how it felt to be full of real food, and not vitamins and chemical agents that made you _feel_ full.

Caf in hand, along with the last of the avian thing – roasted Stewjoni turkey, the droid said – he marched to the ship to do a preliminary diagnostic before they left. The tents were being brought down by people and droids alike, and packed into shipping containers. Around him, masters and padawans mingled, speaking tentatively.

The diagnostic could maybe wait for later, or he could just pass it off to R2-D2. But if he went somewhere more public, he might run into Kenobi; and that’s a conversation he wasn’t braced for right now.

The first announcement had been at breakfast time. He’d already been slipping away, trying to miss the incoming initiates. They were bound to be followed by the masters, after all.

Right as Caleb had walked in, General Billaba had pulled him aside. They’d shared a few, hushed words, Caleb’s face breaking into a bigger and bigger grin as she spoke. The only words Cody had caught were at the end:

“Yes please, Master Billaba.”

Little Gods, these kids were _lethally_ cute. She beamed at him, and nodded, before pushing him off to where his friends were waiting, watching them like hawkbats. As soon as he was within reach, his friends pulled him into hugs and pats on the back congratulating him.

Cody caught himself smiling along as General Billaba re-joined the congregating group of masters, receiving a shoulder squeeze from General Secura, and sincere congratulations from Windu.

“Thank you,” she answered, “Let’s hope it goes well.”

“It will,” General Windu replied. He looked warmly at her, and with a small smile pulling at his features, he was almost unrecognizable.

She tapped her glass of blue milk against his thermos of caf, and took a drink.

Later, as Cody made his way to their ship, he spotted master Tapal speaking to the little redhead: Cal. The two exchanged a few words, Cal initially looking quite grim. Then he brightened completely at something Tapal said, and beamed.

“Yes!” he replied, a little too loud. “Er, yes. Please. Thank you?”

Tapal chuckled, a low, throaty sound that no human would’ve been able to make.

The last thing he saw of note was right at the edge of camp. Antilles stood just past the last tent, looking out over the treeline. His face gave nothing away, and Cody was about to move on, but-

General Yoda came walking up to him, and Cody paused to watch. He felt bad, but even two of the astromechs paused their work to eavesdrop.

“Well,” Yoda said, stopping next to him.

“Won, you have,” he patted the top of his gimmer stick sadly. “Seems wrong, I was. Your prize?”

He passes over the ancient twig, and Antilles composure snapped.

“She failed!” he yelled, “In the best possible way!”

Cody raised an eyebrow.

“She ran out of time saving another initiate from becoming overwhelmed with their own task! As far as the actual _spirit_ of the trials go, she passed with flying colours!”

His face has reddened, and such a deep feeling of puzzlement crossed his features Cody very nearly felt for him.

“How?” he demanded, “She shouldn’t have managed what she did! And she didn’t even use the Force half the time! I _distinctly_ don’t recall _headlocks_ being a part of lightsaber combat! How do you pass a trial involving the Force directly without even _using_ it?”

General Yoda chuckled, leaning on his gimmer stick again.

“Perhaps more to learn, you have?” he offered innocently. “Perhaps more to learn from others? A great source of wisdom, the Force is. The only source, it is not.”

Antilles sighed deeply, turning back to the woods. He looked as if he was bracing himself.

“I will get that gimmer stick one day,” he swore, but there was no heat in it.

“Perhaps,” was the only answer Yoda gave.

Today seemed, by all accounts, to be a good one for the younglings.

While he waited for the diagnostic to finish processing, he opened up the ship’s ramp and lay down on it. He folded his hands over his chest, closed his eyes, and breathed in counts. Kenobi did it to stay calm, and Cody had picked it up from him.

Despite his attempts to block himself off from the world, he still listened to his surroundings, reminding himself to be ready for anything. He heard the footsteps on the ground as they came from the food tent, louder than they needed to be. Offering fair warning of an approach.

Cody sighed, and the footsteps paused.

May as well get it out of the way before they reunite with the troops. There was no way in Hell they wouldn’t pick up on tension between the general and commander, and that tension would likely spread. People would jump to conclusions, more so would butt in with un-asked-for advice and help that wasn’t very helpful. Best to settle it quickly.

He holds position, makes it clear he’s not moving, and the footsteps start back up. Kenobi settled next to him on the ramp – Cody heard a concerning creak as he put his weight down – and started matching his breathing to Cody’s.

They stay quiet a long time, listening to the breeze play through the branches, sending more leaves floating down. The little creatures – Cody still hasn’t actually seen one – chitter and chatter and click at one another. There’s a stream not far away, that can’t be heard from the camp. It's idyllic. 

“Sir?” Cody asked.

He doesn’t need to check to know Kenobi’s looking at him. He feels it on the back of his neck, like a wave of hypersensitivity. As if his attention is enough to turn the Force a little more onto someone, start pressing in with an intangible pressure. A spotlight you couldn't see, focused right at you. 

“Not to rush you,” he said, “but if you’re going to pick a padawan, you’re cutting it close to the deadline.”

Kenobi huffed in amusement. He shifted his weight, another creak giving him away.

Cody finally opened his eyes. It takes him a moment to adjust. Above him, creamy pink clouds float by in fluffy streaks, the deepening blue-purple of the sky heralding sunset.

Kenobi looked tired. He leaned forward, arms on his knees, eyes distant. Cody sat up next to him.

“That’s a no, then.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. He still doesn't look at him.

Cody looked forward, too. “What happened?” he asked.

“Need something have happened?” Kenobi finally spoke.

“No,” he answered smoothly, “But something did.”

Kenobi didn't answer for a bit.

“The trial went well, mostly. It’s more ceremonial than anything. We put a lot of importance behind it for them, because we need to know how they work under pressure; but most masters have already picked by that point. It’s rare for the trial to change anyone’s mind on the matter.”

“Save for Antilles?”

Kenobi smiled. “I heard about that. She was so stunned, she almost forgot to say yes.”

He smiled, too. Couldn't help it. 

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “There was an incident. Do you recall that I mentioned the many things on this planet that would try to kill us?”

“Ah.”

“Yes. They slipped off the trail, for a time. They stumbled into one. They were fine; they mistook it as a part of the trial, rather than an accident. Zatt’s shoulder was scraped up. Ganodi was bitten. It…certainly threw things into perspective.”

Cody nodded, adjusting his plans. He was surprised to find he was disappointed. He’d almost been looking forward to having a padawan around; he’d seen what Commander Tano had done for the men of the five-oh-first. They loved her, loved fighting alongside her, and helping her get into, then out of, trouble.

Still, a distraction from warfare was no good reason to put a youngling at risk. Kenobi had the right of it, as he often did.

“I’m sure they’ll all wind up with good masters,” he said.

Kenobi smiled at him, though it was a weak one. “Of that, I have no doubt. And I have spoken to Master Yoda; should a few be left over, and the war were to end before they aged out, I would happily take one on after the fact.”

He nodded. He settled back down, and Kenobi followed his lead.

“So,” he said, and Cody thinks, _here it comes._ “Dare I ask after the night before last?”

Cody stayed quiet. Considered himself, his goals, Kenobi; who patiently waited for an answer.

Cody makes the decision not to give him one.

“…Ah,” he said, disappointed but understanding. “I apologize. I’ll leave it be.”

 _No you won’t,_ he thought.

He heard a chuckle from next to him, but he didn’t take offense. He thought Kenobi might actually mean it, or mean to try. He braced himself in advance.

“You’re not in trouble though, are you?” Kenobi asked, sobering. “Because if you are, I will help; if I can.”

“No, Sir,” he said. Because he’s in no more trouble than usual, and that’s as good as being out of it at this point. And because while he doesn’t doubt Kenobi’s honesty, this is far from his most subtle manipulation.

Kenobi turned his eyes on him, and Cody feels it. Doesn’t look back. Watches the clouds.

“Alright,” he said, and he mercifully lets that be the end of it.

A few minutes later, R2-D2 rolled through the trees, cussing out the clumps of dirt and small pebbles trapped in his treads, and the Universe in general for placing him here.

“That’s our cue,” Kenobi snarked, rolling to his feet in a single, easy motion. Cody followed reluctantly.

The diagnostic for the ship was also done, had been for a bit. He checked it – all clear. They had less than half a tank of fuel, but it was still more than enough to reach an outpost and resupply.

“Will we head out immediately?” he asked.

“Why the rush?” Kenobi asked. “It’s a beautiful planet, a beautiful time of day. And Ahsoka would like to stay to see the initiates taken.”

Cody would be hard-pressed to argue.

…

“So, that’s it then?” Skywalker asked, much later, when he saw Ahsoka break through the tree line and move towards their make-shift landing pad.

He paused at the expression on her face.

“Snips?”

“Yeah,” she answered tiredly, “Time’s up.”

Kenobi and Skywalker shared one of their patented looks.

“Something happen?” Skywalker asked.

“No,” she answered, “Though that’s kind of the problem. There’s still seven initiates left over.”

That gave the jedi masters pause.

“Seven?” Kenobi asked, “Out of twelve? That’s…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “and they’re good jedi, too. It makes no sense.”

“What’ll happen to them?” Skywalker asked.

Obi-Wan frowned deeply. “There’s still time. A new master could form a connection with them before they age out, but it’s unlikely. Who got chosen?”

“Cal. Caleb. Petro,” she lists. “I saw Tai talking to Master Nu, though I don’t know much about that. Master Nu isn’t the padawan-taking type, from what I’ve seen. Tyzen and Scout were the last two.”

“…Not Katooni? Gungi? Ganodi?” Kenobi pressed, “Certainly someone would take _them_ on.”

“I guess that’s what everyone else thought, too,” Ahsoka shrugged. It wasn’t said with any kind of malice; just resignation.

Five. That’s how many new jedi were being brought into the fold.

Cody tried to squash his disappointment before anyone caught wind of it. A few days ago, he thought they’d be getting _no_ new jedi. This was an improvement, if a small one.

“…Well,” Skywalker finally said. “I guess there’s no point waiting around. You said all your goodbyes?”

“Oh?” she gave him a thin smile, “Decided not to trade me in for a newer model, then?”

“Nah,” he joked, “I think you’ll do. For now.”

She huffed, socking him in the shoulder.

“Yeah. I’ve said goodbye. Poor kids, though. They’re _gutted.”_

Kenobi shifted uncomfortably. Cody could see him thinking.

He could still take one of them on. They were still planetside, and so were the kids. He doubted anyone would stop him, even if the deadline had passed.

Skywalker was halfway up the ramp when he realized Obi-Wan and Cody were still standing at the base.

“Hey,” he called, “You two coming?”

“Sir?” Cody asked quietly.

Kenobi stood there a moment longer, considering. The campsite had been cleaned away; you couldn’t even tell they’d been there. The dirt had been brushed over the ground where tents had been set up, the wind sweeping away the tracks left by the astromechs. Other, bigger ships had since taken off. Only two others besides theirs remained.

Kenobi turned, and made his way back up the ramp. Cody, as always, followed.

…

Three weeks later, while preparing to head to some Togruta colony in the Outer Rim, Cody receives a notification.

Addressed to him, specifically. The title and subject left blank.

He slips into a hallway, and finds the camera’s blind spot with practiced ease. He opens the file and skims through it quickly.

Lieutenant Longshot, Cody’s best scout, had been _painfully_ thorough. His planetary report had notes on seasonal variations, soil fertility, flora and fauna. He had discussed defensible locations, natural features that could be either beneficial or a hindrance. He had included calculations on food supplies that could be gleaned from the earth, supplies that could not be made or grown, and the areas he’d located with the most potential as homesteads. Everything had been written in Mando’a for an added layer of security. It was fifty-three pages long. 

Lieutenant Jesse, Rex’s best scout, only had two sentences in his report.

_Something with eight legs and three mouths tried to eat me._

_It was delicious._

When Cody’s grin spread across his face, it was all teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> So that's it for this fic. the sequel will be up soon; the first draft is very nearly done. I'm glad this fic got as much attention as it did, and very thankful for all the kind comments. I hope you guys have a happy New Year, and stay safe!
> 
> P.S. The fics all update once a week, though it might be two or three weeks before I post the first chapter of the next fic. I hope it lives up to expectations!


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